Balancing Act

149

"So essentially you now have access to your properties?" Rory reflected, having just listened to Celeste tell about Emily's phone call earlier that day. Rory was at the nearby playground with Finny, having some one-on-one time with him for a change. It was already pretty dark outside, but the snowy playground was well lit and Finny really didn't seem to mind, and as Finny was playing with one of his friends he saw there quite often, Rory felt quite comfortable giving Celeste some of her attention at the same time, speaking into her earphone mic.

"I guess, but I don't really know until I actually try the keys...," Celeste hesitated, still not quite knowing what to think of this gesture.

"You really have some deep trust issues there, don't you?" Rory said without embellishments, sensing it from her tone.

"Yeah," she inhaled as a response. Rory knew just the highlights of it and she wasn't planning on going into it.

"Well, in theory you could even ask Emily to go check them out. It's not like you'd be moving there or anything like that any time soon, would it? But this way maybe you could hire some realtor and rent them out - I mean, that hardly requires you to go there yourself," Rory discussed.

"I don't want to ask Emily, she's done so much already. Besides the apartment is a 5th floor walk-up, I'm not going to ask her to do that just to check it. I don't know, maybe I could send Jess or Logan?" she pondered out loud. Logan really would've been the most convenient option, Logan was just a few hours away, but she knew that he really didn't have such time to spare and she wasn't going to ask him. Sending Jess was a whole other story - she simply didn't want to be alone in the house right now, unsure of herself whether she'd be able to keep her food down and whether she'd be up to caring for Evie at the same time, besides, it was not like they were swimming in money right now.

"You could," Rory said, not sounding too enthusiastic about the prospect of involving Logan. She just wanted everything else resolved before she began distracting him with any other plans, and she was pretty sure Celeste understood that.

"Logan is busy, I know - I don't want to bug him either. And I know you've got stuff to talk about," Celeste said, reading Rory well.

"Yeah," Rory sighed.

"Any word from him?" she asked, hating to see two of her best friends besides Jess struggle like this. Rory had told her that Logan had promised to put his explanations and emotions on paper, or screen, but she hadn't really heard back from him about it.

"He should be getting my package today or tomorrow morning. I don't know - I just feel so silly for having sent it. What if he just thinks it's desperate?" Rory pondered, having also told her about the care package idea she'd gotten.

"He won't," Celeste assured. "Just hang in there, a little while longer - he'll be back soon," she added, trying to sound optimistic. She was worried about them too, but her worrying really wouldn't make things easier for them. "Or if you can't wait - just got to him, for the weekend or something. You've weaned Emma now, right? They'd be okay for a few days without you," Celeste suggested.

Rory struggled to really argue with that. She wasn't tied to New York anymore, the freedom having not quite registered with her just yet. Sure, it would be painful to be away from the kids, even a day seemed like too much, but it wasn't completely unthinkable. She could ask Lorelai to come help out if Cathy couldn't, liking the idea of having someone from the family at the house besides the nannies. Having just the nannies there felt to her too much like abandoning the kids somehow.

However, on that thought she recalled the way Sherry had left for Paris when G had been little, leaving G to be raised more by the nanny than her dad. Surely she'd had other struggles, untreated PPD most likely. But then it hit her.

"Hey, I just got an idea," Rory began. "G's mom's in Paris. She's distant enough not to know the full details of your background. Maybe she'd be up to checking those places out for you. Maybe she could even help you locally? And even if you don't want to make them earn anything right now, maybe she could use it to get away from that guy," Rory suggested. She wasn't sure whether this was something she should discuss with G first or not, but just as an idea it seemed to solve a lot of problems at once.

"You know - that's not a bad idea," Celeste exclaimed, sounding a little less helpless. It made sense - if she couldn't enjoy these properties at this point, there was no reason why anyone else couldn't use them, and especially if it was for a good cause. It wasn't anonymous, it was G's mother. Indirectly she would be helping G. However challenging of a relationship, perhaps this was the way so it could once again normalize. Celeste really didn't want G to be estranged from her mother, not because of practical reasons like her mother not feeling like she had any place to go.

"But Celeste...?" Rory said, wanting to pull her back from that excitement a little.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"But maybe Emily was right - maybe talking to your mother wouldn't hurt? I mean on the phone, it's just talk, right?" she suggested.

"I don't know...," Celeste hesitates. She didn't feel remotely ready for that, especially now with the new pregnancy.

"Okay, do what feels right" Rory relented. "I'll call Sherry, okay? Have her get the keys from Emily. At the very least let's have her go check out the place in Paris for now," Rory said, sounding practical.

"Thanks," Celeste replied. "And I meant it - if you can go, go see him, talk," she added, not needing to add whom she meant.

It was past 10 PM as Logan made it to his hotel, after a long day at the office. There was no doubt that he was exhausted, having started his morning with a 6 AM run and then spent most of his day in meetings, on- and offline, and then finally finished reading the quarterly report on the company's performance which really wasn't light nighttime reading.

"Mr. Huntzberger?" the hotel concierge stopped him, as he was about to head across the black and white checkered marble floor and upstairs to his Exceutive room.

"Yes, Lex," he said, having been jolted out of his thoughts. He knew most of the key personnel by name by now.

"A package came for you today," the concierge said, and slipped behind the counter to retrieve it.

He certainly wasn't going to argue with him but he really hadn't been expecting anything. Even getting an actual physical letter was a rare occasion these days.

"Here you go, Mrs. Huntzberger," Lex said and handed Logan the cardboard box, which had been DHL taped and marked as Express. Seeing Rory's name on the sender he relaxed considerably but became increasingly curious to its contents.

"Thanks," Logan replied, adding, "Do you mind sending me up a turkey wrap and the spinach salad," knowing the room service menu by heart by now, saving him a call.

"Coming right up, Sir," Lex replied.

"Thanks, man," he said and took the stairs up to the third floor, not bothering with the elevator largely because he could see some other American businessmen waiting for one, really not feeling up to any more small talk. He hurried his step, already beginning to tear off the tape off the package.

His hotel room lock buzzed and he slid the access card into its slot without looking, placed the box on the table and took off his outerwear. He didn't bother hanging his coat up, being too curious of the box in question. Even without having opened it the box in front of him brought back flashes from the past - each time a box, just like this one, though back then most often an actual shoe box, had arrived it had kept him on his toes, guessing. They had kept him sane. Each time it had been a blast from another, better world, an insight into her mind, the crazy Gilmore girl mind, a piece of his Ace. One time she'd sent him a whole box of the Yale Daily News when he'd complained once that he hadn't been able to ready anything she'd written in a while, the other had been a 'get well soon' package when he'd had a cold, the third a whole box of salt water taffy, another time it had been collages of their faces on nearly every page of her Asian Lonely Planet travel guide as she'd been getting over not going to Asia with him back then as they'd planned. They'd never done that trip - he recalled, sighing to himself.

Logan used the tip of a pen to cut through the last of the UPS tape and took a deep breath. He didn't know whether to be scared or excited of what he was about to find inside.

He noticed his gloves, which while thoughtful, he'd already managed to replace with a new pair from Liberty - still he appreciated her remembering. There were the protein bars - again sweet, but leaving him a little underwhelmed. The pictures were cute, definitely touching some nostalgia in him. And then of course there were the panties - definitely not a move that the college girl Ace would do. The panties was definitely getting the anticipated reaction - missing her with every fiber of his being, as he squeezed his fingers tightly around the fabric.

A knock and an announcement "Room service," woke him from his haze, and he shoved the panties into his pocket, and opened the door and let the server bring in his tray. He thanked the boy with a moderate tip and closed the door behind him.

His appetite nearly vanished, despite the physical growling in his stomach, wanting to see the rest of the contents of the box. The yellow legal pad with three A4-s of hand scribbled list of "Things we should try" made his knees a little weak. She'd really thought about this. She'd researched this. She was worried if not scared, he would almost say begging. And that hurt - the idea that he might have let things get so bad to make her uneasy, made his heart ache. For the first time he actually realized that his insecurities were actually pushing her further, further from any hint of the control he'd wanted.

He read the list thoroughly and while there were some things that truly caught his attention - learning something new together, showing gratitude, which he indeed recognized to have neglected in the past months and experimenting in the bedroom - definitely that, there were others which to him seemed rather silly. Among them were for example asking each other the 36 magic questions that were supposed to lead to love for example, he almost felt they should've sounded silly to Rory as well. It was only then he noticed the post-it that had gotten stuck upside down on the lid of the box.

Reading those words made his heart ache again - he missed them too. Somehow on paper this all seemed so much more real than on a screen.

"I'm tired of not being around you," he said out loud to an empty room, knowing that he'd said those words before, but once again it was the truth. He wanted to touch her, hold her, and assure her they were going to be fine. He needed to believe that. He didn't want to see her this insecure and worried about them. But then again - he was just the same, they just hadn't truly expressed it to each other.

He felt even more guilty than he'd felt before, having been unable to properly get his words out, explaining what was going on with him. He needed to call her, he needed to hear her.

"Hey," Rory picked up, sounding out of breath with the sound of cars in the background. He'd clearly not caught her at the best moment.

"Hey," Logan said.

"I'm just taking Finny home...," Rory replied apologetically. Her mind had been full of new information from Celeste's call, knowing she also needed to call Sherry and Emily when she got home. His call had caught her off guard, and her mind really wasn't in the right place right then.

"I got your package," Logan said. If right then a firetruck hadn't driven past, honking, Rory might have heard the sadness in his voice.

"Oh..," she reacted. If she'd felt like it, she might have replied with her mother's go phrase of 'dirty' but her mind was nowhere near joking.

"Thank you, I really needed that," Logan said, genuinely.

"Listen, I really want to talk, but right now just isn't a good time," Rory said, watching her step. "It's slippery here! Hold my hand, Finny," Rory instructed her son, and performed beginner's level ballet between the icy pavement and two large puddles, feeling glad she didn't have to hold her phone to her ear.

"Yeah, I get it. Call me, whenever - at night is fine. Just know that I'll do anything...," Logan said, feeling a lump in his throat, while hearing some traffic in her background. God, how he wished he'd caught her at a better time, not wanting to let her go.

The magnitude of that promise didn't register with Rory until she got home, took Finny's snowsuit and her coat off and her heartbeat settled from the bustle of the street. As she watched Maya take Finny to wash his hands, Rory, for the first time in weeks, felt a swell of warmth underneath her skin - just maybe - maybe if they didn't lose their momentum right now they had a chance.

Finn was standing excitedly, stepping from one foot to another, behind Charlie's red mahogany-colored door that he had just a second ago knocked, dying to see the look on her face as he surprised her. He was two days early, having been unable to stay away a second longer. He'd announce himself downstairs as the flower delivery service, which he'd gotten Charlie quite used to dropping by every other day by now, and in his defence he was carrying a bouquet of pinkish-orange Italian Ranunculus, which had been a struggle to get there without them getting frostbite.

"Delivery for you, miss," he announced, hiding his face, rather poorly, behind the bouquet, as the door began to open.

"Finn!" Charlie let out a squeal. "I thought the courier sounded a little like you," she added and jumped at him. There were no delivery guys that looked that handsome and came with hand luggage.

Finn kissed her fiercely and held her firmly by her waist, almost making her complain that it was hard to breathe, but she didn't really care. Foreheads pressed onto each-other, nose brushing, and Charlie hanging on his neck, the two giggled like love struck teenagers.

"You going to invite me in or what?" Finn teased with a wide grin on his face.

"Of course, come on," she said, feeling overwhelmed by emotion, pulling him along into her apartment, and closed the door behind them. She was dressed in a cozy pair of long pajama pants and a simple tanktop without a bra underneath.

The place definitely felt like Charlie. Not even so much the interior, which seemed a little too trendy and on spot to be to her tastes but it clearly looked like it had been professionally decorted. But more importantly the place simply smelled of her - of the perfume she wore, the foods she loved to eat, her shampoo, and just her.

"How exactly do you live in this cold?" Finn said as he unzipped his warmest winter jacket and continued to unwrap a scarf from around his neck. He wasn't even sure if he owned a hat, if he did, he hadn't been able to find it.

"-10 is not that cold," Charlie snickered, speaking in Celsius.

"Oh really?" he challenged him, slipping his ice cold fingers underneath the edge of her tanktop, when she wasn't expecting, causing her to squeal yet again.

"Fine, it's cold," Charlie giggled, enjoying very much the sensation of warming up Finn's hands. Even to her, coming from a year of warmth, Montreal was freezing, a lot more freezing than she'd remembered.

Charlie kissed him then, loving the feel of his arms around her, even if they were a little chilly still. That feeling had become so familiar, so comforting, she was surprised by how she'd managed the week and a half without it.

But Finn went further than that, grabbing her along by the waist as he stumbled towards - he didn't know where - some horizontal surface.

The kiss carried and Charlie directed him through the door to her left, until the back of Finn's legs touched the side of her continental bed, landing himself to sit on it. Without further talk Charlie straddled him, and the next moment she could tell Finn was taking a big whiff of her scent from between her breasts as she knew he liked to do, causing her to let out another giggle.

"It's the best smell in the world," Finn mumbled, looking deliriously pleased with himself.

"And I haven't even showered since morning," Charlie admitted, laugingly.

"Well we better work up some sweat before we do that," he noted, raising his eyebrow.

They're lips locked again, as she cradled his head, her fingers intertwining into his curls. Finn's hands were caressing up and down her back, sliding down and into her pajama pants, squeezing her hips, causing her to smile through their kiss.

"You," Charlie said, pointing her index finger towards his chest, "have way too many clothes on," she added in a sultry voice, and bit her lip.

"Aren't we eager?" Finn teased.

"Look who's talking," Charlie raised her eyebrow and grinded with some more strenght against his bulge, making him groan like a wild animal.

Finn pulled his sweater and t-shirt off in one go, not wasting any time, but instead of bothering with pulling her tank top over her head, he simply pulled the top up enough to expose her breasts. His lips weren't asking for permission but took one of her nipples into his mouth in an instant, swirling his tongue around it, then slightly teased it with his teeth.

Charlie enjoyed the feel of his lean muscles, allowing her arms to trace his body.

Finn suddenly pulled her down with him, causing her to yelp, his back now against the bed, allowing his hands even better contact with her hips and ass.

"Oh crap," Charlie suddenly recalled, stopping mid-action but staying still, just as Finn was about to begin nudging down her pajama pants.

"What?" Finn stared at her, asking whether something was seriously wrong.

"I wasn't expecting you, so I haven't shaved...," Charlie hesitated, apologetically.

Finn responded in laughter, his head falling back. "Come here, you daft girl - you really think that's going to stop me?" Finn smirked. He could tell she was a little self conscious because of it, but he really couldn't care less at that moment.

Charlie fumbled to unbutton his fly and he aided her to push his pants downwards. A layer of clothing lighter, her touch against his arousal felt like almost too much, but as his own hand reached for the side of her panties, and pulled the crotch part aside, plunging his hand inside to cup her wetness, providing a good distraction from his own pleasure. He hardly noticed the slightly hairier bush, if anything it was even a little exotic. Soon lost in his tantalizing strokes, Charlie forgot all about it.

Charlie surprised him by pulling away from his hand, which he was reluctant to do, and pulled his boxers downwards, allowing her nipples to brush against his thighs. He knew he wasn't going to last long once she took him into his mouth. The tongue swabbed the head, swirled, her mouth moved up and down a few times, and then she repeated as she heard Finn's deep groan which was like music to her ears.

She pulled away just in time, causing Finn to chuckle through his reluctant grumble.

"Oh, you're bad... or good.. I don't even know anymore," Finn commented, urging her to kiss him again. Kissing also had a positive side effect of alining their hips, which meant Finn could now attempt to regain contact with her core, and oh, he definitely succeeded, as her hips movements began to search searching for more and more contact.

She was so wet he almost slipped in without making a real effort, it just felt so organic. His hands, reluctant to part from the breasts that he was fondling, now moved lower to her hips and began to guide her more purposefully. He plunged inside, causing her to moan, sinking into her to the hilt. She pushed her back straight, and began riding him, taking control. Finn licked his thumb and as she was just arching her back, one of her arms wrapped in her own hair, lost in pleasure, he moved his wet thumb to her clit and began rubbing it through it's hood, knowing exactly how she liked it by now. She was such a gorgeous sight like, in a state of pure bliss, that and he felt utterly at her mercy. Finn almost wished he had his phone so he could record it so she could see what he saw - how gorgeous she looked. It was like making love to Venus.

Finn felt her body tense, several smaller spasms squeezing tightly around his member. He shoved upwards a few more times, holding onto her hips, controlling her himself, as he came. He remained inside until he'd stopped throbbing. By then Charlie had collapsed on his chest already, breathing heavily and basking in afterglow.

"We should do this more often," Finn exclaimed, speaking his mind without really thinking at this point, but having a fairly satisfactory tone to him.

"What? Have sex?" Charlie eyed at him sceptically, unsure what he meant.

"Well yeah, no objections from my end. But the deprivation was kind of hot, but who am I kidding, I'd never be able to keep my hands away from you if I can help it," Finn explained, his hand slowly caressing her back, not wanting her weight to move from on top of him.

"You mean you never...?" Charlie stared at him in disbelief.

"Almost, I did it once. But then as I was quite underwhelmed with it, I just thought I'd experiment - see what it was like," he added with a shrug as if it was no big deal. To anyone else it really wouldn't have been, but this was Finn.

Charlie smiled, still finding it unbelievable he would do something like that. She really wasn't the kind that minded. While she'd seen a glimpse of the old Finn, a shadow of him, she didn't really even realize how big of a deal this was. He was stepping far out of his comfort zone, alternating his routines and tendencies - it was all for her.

The evening really hadn't gone according to plan for Rory. The breakfast for dinner idea which had seemed such a clever invention had ended with a gallon of milk on the floor, and jam all over Finny, making it quite challenging for Rory and Maya to handle all three of them. G had a report due, so Rory really didn't want to bug her with something this domestic.

But the night hadn't ended there. As she'd been giving Finny a bath, he'd managed to spray shower gel all over the floor when Rory had excused herself for a second, just outside the bathroom, to grab Emma who'd been crying because of the contents of her diapers. The smell was bad enough to make anyone cry - oh, the joys of babies eating real food. By the time she'd changed Emma, Finny had begun to attempt getting out of the bathtub on his own, despite Rory's discouragement, and slipped on the trail of soap on the floor, getting a bad scare. Thankfully, there was no real damage, but it made Rory see how barely two people were holding down the fort at home. While G didn't help them all the time, even having her hang out with her in the evenings had become such a huge help which she leaned on with Logan away, perhaps even too much. Rory actually felt a little guilty doing it, and she always tried to make it optional for G.

But Rory knew that if she were to do it - go to London for the coming weekend, G was probably going to have to help out too. And as if that was not all - she'd have to call Lorelai and ask for help, unlike she'd done in years. She knew her situation was nowhere like Celeste had with her mother, yet the call made her apprehensive, knowing there'd be too many questions.

As the kids were finally asleep, an hour later than she would've liked, Rory stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, having just washed her face and used her nightly oil serum, which had become her minimum nighttime routine when she wasn't up for more. Somehow, with the oil on her face, she always thought she looked worse than before - every skin imperfection visible at the ruthless bathroom mirror light. She combed her hair, which to her looked thin and frail, having lost a bunch of hair after having the twins and her hairline looked like she was growing bangs with tiny new hairs. Even her looks didn't seem to play in her favor these days, which she certainly would've needed to gather up her courage to call Logan.

His "I'll do anything," was the only thing keeping her together, and she knew she had to, needed to, call - even though she knew she'd be waking him at 4.30 AM, or if she could stay up a little while longer, which was an idea just as bad, at 5. She'd done it back in the day, when she'd just kept forgetting the time difference with Logan, such naivete was long gone by now - she'd be doing it quite purposefully to catch a moment with him tonight.

With a guilty heart, she waited as the phone rang on Logan's side, sitting on her bed, legs crossed, preparing for the conversation to be had. She didn't want to cry or yell, not to beg - not to wake the kids, not to say something she'd regret, but not leave anything critical unsaid either.

"I'm up," Logan declared sounding tired, clearly having been fully asleep as she caught him.

"Sorry," Rory replied, hearing his grogginess from his voice. But that was their reality right now - the only moment she really had was when the kids were asleep and it was in the middle of the night in London.

"Just give me a minute," he said, and Rory could vaguely hear him flipping on the light and heading for the bathroom. Water ran in the distance and Rory could assume he'd just run some cold water over his face like he usually liked to do in the mornings before going running.

Logan appeared a minute later on camera, looking like he always looked in the mornings - his eyes slightly narrower than during the day, his hair messy and quite often with a few pillow marks on his face. Today was no different.

"It's good to see you," Rory managed. It was also good to hear him - video being several degrees better than texting.

"You have no idea...," Logan replied. He massaged nervously his shoulder with his opposite hand, the gesture telling Rory well that he'd been sitting too many hours behind his laptop again, instead of using his external screen.

A brief silence lingered.

"I'm sorry that I haven't send the letter - e-mail, whatever, I just... the writing has been going so well," Logan sighed, apologetically.

That Rory could understand. Whatever was stopping him from putting down words - at least now she knew it wasn't for the lack of trying or lack thinking about it. Sometimes the words just didn't come.

"I just need you to know that this is not me disappearing on you or leaving or purposefully distancing myself... I don't want to hurt you or make you worry. I'm not going anywhere unless you make me, but there are just thoughts in me that I don't want you to hear because I don't even understand myself where they're coming from. I don't recognize myself, I'm ashamed of these thoughts, Rory," Logan explained, sounding miserable.

Rory didn't reply, the latter was what she'd been sensing too. She just wondered what was the moment in which thoughts took over the person.

"The knowledge that you are there is what keeps me from completely losing it. Whatever work you've determined we need to do - I'm willing to do it. I trust your research, I'll even do the stupid 36 questions if you want," he added, hoping she'd know him enough to know how he usually felt about any type of worksheets like that.

Rory smiled weakly. The worry was difficult to stop.

"I don't want you to do these things because I want to, or because I think we need to," Rory replied.

"Poor choice of words - but on my defence it's kind of early," Logan apologized, hoping she'd see at least a trace of humour in this. "I want to," he assured. "I just think maybe by starting with the list it'd be easier somehow, maybe doing something like this will help me figure myself out as well," he suggested.

'Figure myself out' made Rory cringe - what if what he figured out wasn't what she wanted to hear or something that hardly complied the man that she loved?

"I miss being around you," Logan said, his words moving something in her.

"I miss you too," Rory relented, pushing aside his former choise of words, hoping desparately that it was just that. She needed to hope that there was Logan underneath it all to rediscover.

Logan rubbed his face with his palms, clearly still feeling tired.

"I hate texting, I keep reading your text with a dozen voices in my head. I hate thinking like you'd mock me - and even if that's what you did, maybe playfully, I've been struggling with finding the right words too. New Hartford was just so sudden, so much - I didn't know what to say," Rory explained.

"I'd never mock you," Logan assured her. "And I'm sorry - I clung onto something that got me excited. I hoped I'd get you excited, that it could be something we'd connect on - and I know it's not really your thing, but I hoped...maybe... I don't know...," Logan said picking his words but ending up doubting himself. "That maybe we'd find something in it that could be our 'something new to do or learn together'," he explained. "I just wanted to surprise you, I hoped you'd be excited - I know, it was stupid of me," he added.

"It's not stupid, Logan. But it was definitely a surprise. But it's such a significant thing to spring onto someone. You hadn't even told me you were looking at something like this, and for what purpose - and then you just sprung it on me," Rory said, sensing her pitch elevating.

"I'm sorry. It's not how I meant it," Logan replied.

"I don't think I can just keep going this topic over and over - as I said - you're free to get it, it's essentially your money. Get it - if it makes you happier. I want you to be happy, simple as tha. I don't want to move, but sure - I won't avoid it," Rory said, wanting to move on from the topic at hand.

"It's your money too," Logan said, in a slightly smug tone, as if needing to remind her.

"You know what I mean," Rory replied, and he did.

Both of them took an audible deep breath, as if buying time.

"Mitchum is in London already, he felt the need to tell me how you talked to him," Logan changed the subject slightly.

"Jerk," Rory muttered.

"Agreed," Logan concurred. Damn, how it felt good to agree with her, even if it was something so trivial.

"How's your weekend?" Rory asked, unsure if she should bring up the option of going to London herself.

"Some light reading," Logan replied, Rory knowing too much that it wasn't the fun kind.

"Any estimate of when you're coming home?" she inquired.

"Earliest next Thursday I think. Mitchum is here, so it speeds things up a little," Logan replied, feeling quite relieved to talk about something more practical on top of the heaviness. These heavy discussions were not over, but at least they both knew that neither had meant what they'd said or suggested as something to stir up more issues.

"Celeste suggested I ought to come to London..," Rory said, hesitantly.

"Ah...," Logan exhaled, taking in that thought. He didn't particularly like hearing that Celeste knew so much about their personal business but he should've known and really he wasn't mad about it, he just hadn't registered it that their issues really were something that were influencing Rory strongly enough that she might need a shoulder.

"Do you want me to come?" Rory asked.

"I mean... yeah," he blurted, unsure what to say. "If that's what you want and that's what you feel you can arrange, yes. Definitely," he added.

"I'll see if I can make it happen then," Rory replied, letting out an involuntary yawn.

"I'd love to see you," Logan assured once more, realizing his words really weren't working in his favor.

Rory smiled, but her eyes still looked a little sad.

"You should get some rest," Logan suggested.

"So should you," Rory replied.

"Not as much as you," he insisted.

"Can you just talk to me, until I fall asleep?" Rory asked. She didn't want to keep him up, but she knew that he'd probably not go to sleep after this. He'd likely work in the mornings or go for a jog instead. Logan didn't do naps shorter than 1.5 hours, referring to some science behind the sleep cycle being 1.5 hours and any less was just disruptive.

"Sure," Logan replied, his tone reflecting the weak smile he had on his lips. Baby steps.

Rory switched off the camera and her nightstand light and set the phone on the pillow beside her. Logan didn't at first know what to say - so he began just simply telling her about what was going on in London - weather, work, city. It was nothing, but the content really mattered very little at this point, it was just the comfort of his voice that she needed.

Rory hadn't gotten around to calling Sherry last night, first of all because it'd been too late for social calls to anyone else but Logan when Rory had finally had the time for it, and secondly because she realized she didn't have her number.

Rory was glad to be up half an hour earlier before the kids were that morning, while feeling a little tired, 6.5 hours were survivable. God, how she missed those days when she could sleep until 11! She wasn't even sure if she coudl if she was given the chance. But more importantly, she felt a little calmer about Logan - at least they were more or less on the same page - they were willing to work on them.

G was coming down the stairs, the thumps of her new dark red Dr. Martens, which she was wearing proudly, echoing in the stairway. As she appeared in the kitchen stairway, Rory glanced over her as if checking over whether she was dressed appropriately for school - but G really wasn't problematic in that sense, just like right now she usually dressed in some skinny jeans or leggings and more and more was beginning to prefer oversized sweaters and T-shirts to anything too revealing.

"Morning," G replied, and grabbed a red smoothie she'd made herself last night and shook it up in the tumbler, while she searched for her to-go thermos in the dishwasher and placed that under the coffee machine.

"Hey, are you in a hurry?" Rory asked, checking the time.

"A little, why?" she asked. They were having their biology class at the Liberty Science Center to see some Microbe exhibition that morning hence she had a bus to catch.

"I need your mom's number," Rory replied.

"Sure... why?" G asked, sounding a little sceptical.

"I need her to go check out Celeste's apartment, Emily has got the keys," Rory shared.

G drank her smoothie and browsed her phone for numbers at the same time, and swiftly sent over the contact information to Rory.

"We're not sure yet, but this might also be an opportunity for her to get out of that house," Rory said, feeling like she needed to warn her. If Rory was going to suggest the place as a safe house of sorts, G needed to know that she might get an angry call from her mom blaming her for blabbering about their personal business to Rory.

"Oh...," G said, sinking down to the stool by the kitchen counter.

"Are you okay with that or would you rather call her yourself?" Rory asked, setting her own coffee cup down on the table.

"Maybe text her first, in case she can't talk right there," G suggested. She'd never really pinpointed it before, but whenever Sherry had talked to anyone from the states - her dad or some of her now distant friends, she'd hardly ever done it in front of Remi. She wondered if that was also the reason why her mom rarely called her and preferred to write lengthy e-mails instead. A lot of things were seeming more and more suspicious now, indicating that there might be a lot more going on in that household, than her mother had let on.

"Right," Rory nodded. "Do you know if she has her own bank account at least?" she asked.

"I think so, why?" G replied.

"In case she needs some starting money," Rory suggested. She was willing to give it to her. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to feel stuck like that under some guy's roof.

"Thank you," G said, and hugged Rory. The topic definitely wasn't something she liked to think about much, but she desperately did hope that Rory might get through to her mother.

"Oh, and I'll ask Cathy and my mom to come stay for the weekend. I think I might try to go to London to see Logan. I don't want to ask you to babysit, but just... if there's a need, I'd love it if you could be a backup," Rory said, squinting her eyes. She really didn't want to exploit her like this.

"Of course, you deserve to go," she assured, and put her thermos in her backpack, the half-eaten smoothie still in her hand.

"Thanks;" Rory replied. "And another thing," Rory added, already seeing G wanting to slip out the door, clearly in a bit of a hurry. "Text me from the bus what do you want to do for your birthday," she added with a bigger smile. G was turning 17 at the end of the month, already in two weeks, and Rory really wanted her to have a nice time. But as the house really wasn't ideal for a big party like that, despite her apartment being half designed for it, she likely needed to plan ahead a little more than just getting a few bags of chips. She wasn't intending on competing with Emily Gilmore's definition of a birthday, but she really did think that after all that G had had doing on, the least she could do was give her a nice day.

After the kids's morning routines were done, taking a good hour and a half in totla, Rory knew that she had calls to make. She started with the most urgent ones.

"The long lost daughter does remember my number!" Lorelai teased her as she picked up. Sure, they texted every couple of days, but it wasn't really about anything meaningful, just the kids or something going on in Stars Hollow.

"I need a favor, mom," Rory sighed.

"Shoot, fruit of my loins," feeling the need to emphasize that fact. She was driving to work without Leo in earshot, hence not too careful of her wording.

"This weekend - any hope you'd help babysit? Maya is here, G promised to be back up, I'll also call Cathy," Rory began.

"Uu...," Lorelai began. "Hot date?" she joked.

"Kind of. I'm going to London," Rory confessed.

"Uu... hmm..," Lorelai began, ending in an unsure growl, but on her defence she was doing a left turn and needed to focus on her driving for a second. "Does it classify as a hot date if the guy's your husband?" she asked, as if there was any debate on that. Sometimes Rory felt, Lorelai tried too much these days.

"Definitely classifies," Rory replied, deciding to end the debate.

"This is awfully last minute. Everything okay with you two?" Lorelai inquired.

"We're fine," Rory lied. She didn't have the energy to explain it. "I just really want to go," she explained, knowing too well that she sounded like a sex addicted teenager with that excuse. The truth was she needed to go. "Can you do it?" she asked, before Lorelai had a chance to make any more comments.

"Sure, and I'm sure with Luke and Leo along we'll be fine without Cathy, she's got that strange accent to her voice - it's like she's Anna Paquin one minute and the next she's Emily VanCamp," Lorelai commented, trailing off.

"Thanks, any hope you can be here by 6 tomorrow?" Rory stayed on focus, her mouse cursor already set to press purchase on the tickets she'd had her eye on. She was saving time by flying at night and first class by now was pretty standard - she just hadn't expected the last minute tickets to be quite as expensive as they were. She swallowed hard and pressed 'purchase' anyways. This was too important.

"I guess," Lorelai replied, sounding a little flaky, which Rory knew meant only that she needed to tell Luke the time as well just in case, making a note to do that later.

"Ok, thanks mom, I owe you one. But I got to go, I have some more calls to make," Rory hurried the call to end. She felt a sting of guilt for the way things were between them too - lorelai was there for her when she needed her, but she - she was in her own world most of the time. Even with Lorelai having Leo now which eased the guilt a little, she felt unappreciative but at the same time powerless to change things now that she had so much going on. She didn't feel like she had the energy for her.

She called Cathy just the same, as if nothing else, to have her on back up - if something happened or Lorelai couldn't make it - and let Maya know Cathy was available, just in case. Cathy didn't much like working weekends as she had a kid of her own, but on occasion she'd been willing to help out in the past and Rory had even allowed her to bring her own kid if it had been an emergency.

Next she stared at Sherry's number on the phone. She didn't remember the last time she'd spoken to her. It could've well been when G had been just a toddler - on her first birthday maybe? After G had turned 18 months, Sherry slipped out of G's life for two whole years, and despite knowing first hand how rough raising a child could be, and especially with accompanied mental health issues, she had to admit that with the newfound information on Remi, Rory was actually mad at her for not doing a better job at stepping up to protect G. Sure, she'd done something - but it wasn't enough. But right now, she just needed to swallow that anger.

"Yeah?" the familiar voice asked. Rory had always thought that was a voice that'd make great commercials.

"Hi, Sherry! It's Rory," she said, her voice a little shaky, just now remembering what G had said about texting first, but she'd forgotten, having so many things on her mind.

"Rory, hi," she said, then abruptly adding, "Is Gigi okay?" worriedly. Clearly speaking at that moment wasn't an issue, and Rory breathed a little easier for her.

Rory hadn't realized that getting a call from her Sherry must've for a moment made her panick, maybe even worrying that G had been in an accident or something.

"G's fine, she's in school," Rory replied, sounding like a mother in this case. "I was actually calling about something else," she said and continued to explain how Emily Gilmore was in Paris and had a set of keys that they needed her to pick up and test on Celeste's apartment which was in the 8th arrondissement by the Madeleine. They needed her to take some photos of the place's condition too. Sherry of course didn't know anything about Celeste, or even less about the fact that she'd ever been someone remotely famous.

"I guess, I could do that," Sherry said, sounding like nothing was wrong. She was going over her schedule in her mind. Doing a favor for Rory, who was essentially making sure her little girl was safe, was the least she could do.

"There's no real hurry, but Emily's leaving on Sunday as far as I know," Rory said, hoping Sherry would at least agree another way of getting the keys if she couldn't make it before that.

"Alright," Sherry replied with a sigh. It wasn't really an issue for her to go and run those errands - it was just a bit of a logistical nightmare if she wanted to take her car to the city which was one constant traffic jam with the strike, which was still ongoing. "It's been a while since I've heard your voice, Rory. G told me a lot about you... I'm sorry I haven't called," she added apologetically.

"That's okay. G's doing well, better," Rory replied, a little cryptically. "Listen, Sherry... when you go to this place, can you not tell Remi anything about the place or where you're going?" she added. Having not spoken for such a long time to her, yet alone about anything personal, she felt she couldn't just outright suggest something so intimate as they'd originally thought. She actually thought this perhaps needed to come from G or from all three of them together so she wouldn't feel betrayed.

Rory could hear her sigh uncomfortably, beginning to sense that G might have mentioned something she considered private.

"We can talk about all of these reasons later," Rory suggested, assuringly.

"Okay," Sherry replied, and Rory could tell she was a little apprehensive but still willing to humour me.

"Call me when you get a chance. I'm sending you Emily's number and address right now, and I'll tell her you're coming," Rory added.

"Fine," Sherry said. "Listen, I got to..," she said, giving Rory the impression that she needed the conversation to end for whatever reason. Rory barely got a 'bye' out before the call was disconnected.

Rory took a deep breath, hoping Sherry would not just disappear on them.

Emily was next.

"Rory! How nice to hear from you!" her grandmother exclaimed as she picked up. She was a little drowsy, having just been woken from her afternoon nap.

"Grandma, hi," Rory said, adding, "I hope I didn't wake you." She knew her grandma had a habit of napping ever since she'd gone to Europe with her, and that had been ages ago.

"It's quite alright, sleeping in this magnificent city is a waste of time anyways." Emily replied, joyously. "Everything alright?" Emily asked with some concern.

"Yeah, I'm just calling about the keys," Rory began. "I've arranged for someone to come pick them up and go explore a little, so you wouldn't have to," she added.

"Oh," Emily replied, almost sounding disappointed.

"The one in Paris is a 5th floor walk-up," Rory added, letting her know the reason, in case she took it personally. You never knew with Emily, one day she wanted to be treated according to her age, the other she wanted to feel like she was 30 again and expected people to treat her as such.

"Fine," she exhaled. "Who is coming and when?" she asked on point.

"Sherry Tinsdale," Rory said, making it very clear who she was talking about. It was only then she realized she actually also needed to caution her grandmother as she had been in the midst of the incident with G as well, which Sherry knew nothing about.

"Sherry?" Emily confirmed in some disbelief. She hadn't thought she'd see the woman again in her life, but then again she'd never expected to see G as much as she did.

"Yes, Sherry. G's mom," Rory made it abundantly clear. "And can you just please not say anything about G - not that she came to you - none of it. Right now there are bigger issues we're dealing with and I just don't want to scare her with a scolding on good parenting. I want to help her, she needs it," Rory explained.

"You can't be seri...!" she began, already thinking up a number of things she wanted to say to Sherry.

"Grandma, please - if we do this right, we might be able to get her away from Remi. Celeste's place is vacant, she can stay there, maybe she help Celeste manage the other place, because Celeste really can't do any other transactions with them than renting them," Rory explained.

"Oh...," Emily reacted, thinking it over. "You know, Isabelle knows a few real estate agent if she needs help with the properties," Emily said.

"We'll see.. But first can you just make sure she gets the keys, and if for whatever reason she shows up with Remi, don't give the keys to them - I'd prefer if Remi knew nothing of this - just in case she takes Celeste up on her offer at some point," Rory explained, expecting this to not to be such an easy process to convince her.

"You're suspecting abuse?" Emily asked, reading Rory's undertone.

"We don't know - some form probably, I don't know how bad it is. I just need her alone to really talk to her, perhaps also with G present," Rory added.

"The girl's way too young to be involved in conversations like that," Emily argued.

"G's seen enough, Sherry might be more easily persuaded to leave him if G's in on this," Rory explained, hoping that the idea of having a heathy relationship with G, as much as possible, would be her motivation.

"Okay, I'll get them to her. But I could go along, I don't mind climbing 5 stories if it's just the one time I have to do it," Emily said as if being fit as a fiddle.

"Well - up to you,," Rory sighed smilingly. "But you sound really good, grandma! Thank you," Rory added.

"It's no problem. Take care!" Emily said, disconnecting the call.

After spending a busy morning in bed Charlie had taken Finn all over the city that day to see the Old Montreal, Square Saint-Louis and Rue Denis and Mont-Royal. They'd seen her favourite places and eaten at her favourite restaurant, the Candide where their trademark seemed to be to serve their food deocrated by beautiful flowers. Their tour had been cut short by an approaching blizzard, hence the warm and now laughter-filled apartment with a bottle of wine and the lovely company really did seem like the most perfect place in the world.

Charlie's apartment was full of her belongings which she'd taken out of storage and gone through, picking and choosing what to bring, what to donate and what to take to her dad's, deciding not to rent a whole mini warehouse this time as some of her stuff had gotten water damage over the last year.

They were going to see Charlies' dad the following day, hence the wine was also vital so Finn wouldn't worry so much. Finn didn't even know exactly why he was so worried, he doubted her dad would talk her out of moving or somehow disapprove publicly of their plans, but it was still a first for Finn.

The boxes that were still in her living room were fascinating to Finn, and on more than one occasion Charlie had had to physically stop him from opening them back up, kisses or other gestures of endearment usually doing the trick. To Finn each box was a piece of her, and he just wanted to study their contents as a part of studying her. Charlie hadn't been able to persuade him, however, from opening up the the boxes titled "déguisements" which Finn of course knew meant 'costumes' having been just far too intrigued. And eventually Charlie had relented, giving him a show of what used to be her college theater class costumes, she hadn't really thought about in years.

"How come I never knew you did theater?" Finn asked casually, as he waited on the couch for Charlie to change into yet another outfit, having just before showed off her amazing Tudor ball gown, a little faded, but technically still good enough for a student play of some sort, which explained why she was donating them.

"I don't know, it was just for the fun of it really. I had friends there, and I was used to reading tons of material and remembering texts - or I'm not even sure which way it worked - whether this helped me at my law studies or the other way around," she explained, speaking loudly from the adjacent bedroom. It was not that she couldn't change clothes in front of him, far from it, but it was rather about doing a theatrical entrance and the fact that some of those might have been embarrassingly small for her by now.

"Mostly it was just an outlet from all the seriousness of my classes, you know. I wasn't even very good, but it built courage and tought me not to be afraid to making a fool of myself", Charlie added laughingly as she emerged, now wearing a black and white nun habit and veil.

Finn let out a hearty laughter. "Well-well-well... Another thing we can cross off the bucket list," he chuckled. He definitely wanted to explore this outfit a little bit more closely and was just about to approach Charlie, who was definitely playing the role of the coy and shy nun very convincingly, biting one of her fingers with her teeth playfully, when his phone rang.

"Crap, sorry," Finn apologized, and looked at his phone. As technically it was still Thursday, he needed to at least check who it was, in case he's brain was needed at work, even though he'd delegated most of his workload for a couple of days.

Charlie let out a sigh, but it was no big deal, deciding to leave the costume on for now.

Finn almost considered not answering, but seeing it was Rory, made him a little concerned. It could've been important.

"Ah, I should take this, it's Rory..," Finn replied. Charlie knew Rory was a good friend of his and knowing Rory was married to his best friend, she really didn't mind him taking the call as a priority. Friends were important.

"What do I owe this pleasure?" Finn exclaimed as he answered the call.

"Hey! What are you up to?" Rory asked, unsure if she was distrubing him.

"Umm... I'm in Montreal, planning on driving Charlie home on Sunday," Finn explained, making it very clear that 'home' was in New York.

"Oh, sorry - I didn't mean to bother you," Rory apologized, realizing very well that she might have been interupting something as she also noted the time.

"What do you think I am - some Duracell Bunny?" Finn chuckled, glancing over his gorgeous girlfriend who was completely hidden underneath that nun outfit at the moment.

Charlie giggled along quietly - he pretty much was.

"Uh-uh," Rory noted sarcastically.

"So what's up?" he asked.

"I actually wanted to pick your brain about something," Rory began. "I know this might be a little weird for you, but because this concerns Manhattan, I didn't really know who else to ask," she added, sounding a little apologetic.

"Come on, it's me - ask away," Finn urged.

"G's birthday is at the end of this month," Rory spilled.

"Right," Finn reflected with what he hoped was an inaudible sigh.

"And I feel like I've been at home too long - I cannot think of a venue. And I honestly wouldn't have asked but I feel like I'm a little late with organizing this, I don't want to waste too much time on delaying booking a place. She asked me this - let me read this out for you - 'I don't want anything formal, just something fun, carefree, a little childish maybe? Something good for taking photos, some activity maybe, rather than just sit and dine'," Rory read out.

Rory was incredibly proud of G actually wanting to do something different - G had told her how all the usual parties her friends had were about hanging out drinking, dancing and hooking up. G hadn't said it but Rory could tell she was trying to avoid putting herself in that position. It was actually pretty clever, to do something out of the box, and claim the party as her final childhood party of sorts, her 18th, next year, probably being much different.

"It's just a few people - 10 or so. All the places I can think of are too childish or require an ID," Rory added.

"Hmm..," Finn pondered.

"She's just been through a lot and she deserves a fun day, you know," Rory said. She knew he would agree, so what if it was a little selfish of her to be asking him this, but as far as Rory saw it - he was over it - even if the topic was a little tender. It wasn't like she was asking him to be there.

"It's the 31st right?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, Friday - so like starting from 6 or 7, something like that," Rory replied, being quite surprised he knew it by heart.

"I have a few ideas actually. I can make a couple of calls tomorrow, if that's okay?" Finn asked.

"You're amazing, thanks," Rory exhaled. It was one thing off her list.

"Are you doing okay yourself?" Finn inquired, out of genuine concern for how things were going with her and Logan.

"I'm going to London for the weekend myself," Rory shared, feeling impatient already. She still needed to pack, and all the babysitting logistics needed to work out tomorrow. She was nervours.

"Well good luck, but I'm sure you won't need it. He'll be happy to see you," Finn assured.

"Thanks," Rory replied and hung up after a casual goodbye's.

"Huh," Finn exhaled, throwing his phone onto the couch besides him.

"So what was that about?" Charlie inquired. It didn't sound like prying, it just sounded like genuine interest.

Finn wasn't really used to having someone be that interested in his life, and for a moment he really considered how much to this story he should tell.

"Rory's arranging a birthday for her sister, she asked for some recommendations...," Finn begand, then deciding to add, "her sister is the girl that I told you about," he confessed. He didn't want to keep secrets, secrets were exhausting.

"The one that...," Charlie began to say, realizing she particularly didn't feel like finishing it. But she got it from the wordless look in his eyes.

"Does Rory know about that?" Charlie asked after a pause, and took off the veil she'd been wearing, feeling it was just too hot to wear inside.

"She does, I don't know how much detail but the gist anyway," Finn replied, hoping this wouldn't be an issue for her.

"It weird she even asked your help on this," Charlie replied a little offendedly, feeling like it was rather rude of Rory or at least careless of Finn's emotions to even ask him. While she didn't want to think about it, she could tell that whatever had happened had affected him emotionally. She could see he was over it, she knew he was ashamed of it ever having happened, but now that it had, she also wanted to be sure that these emotions were not stirred up unnecessarily. And besides, she really didn't want to fight over his attention with some teenager.

"Rory has a lot on her plate right now, it's not like I'm planning the whole thing or attending it. It'll take me two calls tomorrow to the right people and that's it," Finn explained.

"I guess," Charlie shrugged, pouting a little, having some mixed feelings on the matter.

"Hey-hey-hey," Finn pulled her close and into his lap, reading her sceptical look. "I'm just helping out Rory here - nothing more. She and Logan are going through a rough patch, she's got three kids and her teenage sister to take care of, it's the one thing I can help her with," he added, assuring her.

"Fine," Charlie mumbled, pretending to be grumpy.

Finn kissed her, pulling her chin down gently.

"Have you seen her since you got back? You know - cleared the air?" Charlie asked, unable to fully let go of the subject.

"I have, briefly. I said I was sorry. She knows about you - told me I deserved to be happy. Honestly I think she gets it, and she's not clinging...," Finn explained, summing things up.

"Good," Charlie sighed. That did make her feel a little bit more secure about this thing. "Now, do you want me to go and try on the Jasmine costume or are we going to stick with the habit?" she asked about shifting the subject.

"Oh definitely Jasmine - a body as gorgeous as yours shouldn't be hidden under all these layers," he laughed, his hand caught somewhere in between the several layers of her hem, having unsuccessfully attempted to creep upwards.

Paris was picking up her own kids from school, just ten minutes from her house, and had just confirmed that the kids were buckled into their carseats. It was one of these days when she had left work early, and for once felt like she was meeting the near-impossible good parent criteria that she'd set for herself.

"How was project day?" Paris asked excitedly, having been the one that got an interdisciplinary project into their curriculum in the first place, being on the board of trustees of the school herself. She pulled out of their drop-off spot after letting a few cars pass.

"They stuck us on the same team again," Gabriela complained. It was not that she minded working with her brother, but this was just getting boring - somehow a lot of the teachers treated the two like a single entity, while they couldn't have been more different in most of their interests even if their personalities had a lot of similarities.

"Was the project cool at least?" Paris asked, making a mental note to have yet again a word with their teacher.

"We made icebergs," Timoteo exclaimed excitedly.

Inside Paris was groaning a little - she'd made icebergs and water density experiments with her kids when they were 5. Needless to say, she wasn't impressed with the elementary school that claimed to be the best in Connecticut.

It was then Paris' phone rang, the display indicating it was Vikki calling.

"Hey?" she answered with surprise, having just seen her twenty minutes ago at her office car park where she'd kissed her goodbye. As far as she knew Vikki was, just like she, picking up Silas' from his school.

"Hey," Vikki replied, sounding out of breath and she could tell her voice was a little shaky. "I was just in an accident," she continued, sounding like she was in shock or at the very least very shaken up. Paris glanced briefly to the rearview mirror, already seeing her kids with their earphones on, listening to some audio books or music like they often did.

"You okay?" Paris asked with concern, considering pulling over to talk with her full attention. She could hear sirens in the background.

"This car just came out of nowhere and just, the passenger side is completely smashed up..," she began to explain, unable to focus on the most important things "I'm fine - nothing life threatening as far as I can tell, but they're taking me in for a CT and observation just to be safe. Some small cuts from the glass and I think I banged my shoulder," she explained, trying to put her medical knowledge into at least some use estimating her condition by feel, but wasn't doing the best job at that moment. All she could think was that if her son had been in the car, he would've been in way worse condition that she was, as she usually sat on the back seat on the passenger's side. She could see from where she was sitting, that the carseat was pretty banged up.

"Where are they taking you?" Paris asked, already wanting to rush over there as fast as she could.

"Saint Francis probably, unless they're full," Vikki replied, reading the sign on the ambulance that was just treating the other driver. "But I need you to do me a favor, I need you to go pick up Silas - I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't really know who else to ask, who'd actually have a car seat that fits him," she added, speaking urgently. It soudned like she was about to cry.

Paris wasn't feeling too confident on this prospect frankly, Silas was a little unpredictable and especially if there was a change of plans. But how could she not help her.

"I should be there in like 25-30 minutes," Paris estimated, knowing she needed to drop her own kids off first.

Vikki continued to give her instructions on the little details on Silas and where to find him until it was her turn to be checked over by the paramedics.

Paris promised to come check on her later, hoping she'd be able to reach her - but she already knew that the logistics of that evening and perhaps even the next day weren't going to be the easiest with one car and two carseats, when there were two adults and three kids to transport.

Half an hour later Paris marched into Oak Hill, a special school adapted for students with disabilities, after having her ID checked at the entrance. The first thing she noticed, and she knew that it was a fairly superficial and judgmental thought, was that a lot of the students that were still hanging around or about to leave, were a lot worse off than Silas was. Silas was eccentric, needed things to happen in a certain way around him, but essentially he was able to communicate, had all functioning body parts and was very intelligent for his age. It didn't quite seem like the place for him at first sight. But things between Vikki and her were too fresh to start formulating an opinion on something like, hence she only planned to think it.

"Excuse me, where can I find Mr. Giles?" Paris asked a passing woman who looked like she could possibly be a teacher.

"Jayden's classroom is the second door to the left," the woman instructed. Clearly it was one of these schools where things worked by first names, making her cringe on the inside.

She walked down the hall and looked into the second classroom to her left.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Paris Geller, I'm here to pick up Silas Irwing," she announced herself. "Hi, Silas!" she noticed the boy sitting behind a desk with his backpack on the table in front of him.

"Hi," Silas responded but didn't make eye contact, his leg bouncing under the table.

"Hello," Mr. Giles stood up and shook her hand, adding, "I'm going to have to check into his records to see if you're authorized," in a stern but calm manner.

"I doubt I'm in there, I'm Vikki's employer. She's just been in a car accident - she should be alright, but she couldn't make it here herself today," Paris began, speaking in a whisper, not wanting to upset Silas unnecessarily.

"I figured something was up, Vikki is usually is here on the dot, so we've just called his father as well," Mr. Giles replied. "But let's check, perhaps we can just call him right back so that he doesn't need to come," he added.

"His dad works in New York, so I doubt...;" Paris began, but realized it didn't really matter.

"Here we go - as I see here you're perfectly authorized for pick up, Dr. Geller," Mr. Giles added, causing Paris' eyebrows to raise. That she truly hadn't expected and she wondered when exactly had Vikki put her into that list. It was no doubt a compliment of the highest order.

Mr. Giles picked up his phone and began dialing the father.

"Silas, my man," a familiar male voice exclaimed from the doorway the next moment, causing Paris' shock to increase exponentially, and her head to turn.

There he was - Paris was standing 6 ft from Tristian DuGray. For a split second she though about what she was wearing - she wasn't even sure why, but relaxed noticably realizing she looked pretty good at that moment, dressed in a knee-length sweater dress with her wool-coat over it and knee-high boots. Briefly she scolded herself for even thinking of it - it wasn't like she was trying to score with him.

Tristian looked a lot older, and the scruffy beard really wasn't doing him many favours. He was dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and a puffy bomber jacket - sure, he still had that smile that she remembered, but somehow she'd imagined seeing him in flesh affecting her more than it did. All she felt like doing was shrugging.

"Huh, Mr. DuGray - it seems we have a little bit of confusion who's picking up Silas today," Mr. Giles spoke.

It was only then Tristian noticed Paris.

"Am I seeing straight? Paris, is that you?" he exclaimed.

"It's me alright," she replied, smiling friendily. Her mind was racing, thinking of several ways how this evening could turn from an odd coincidence to a full blown tele-novela. "Vikki called me to come pick him up," she added.

"How do you two...?" Tristan looked between the three in the room, feeling a little confused.

"Can we go now, dad?" Silas was getting impatient.

The teacher went back to his business, letting the two sort out amongst themselves who would take the kid home.

"Just a minute, Silas," Tristan said, clearly looking for some type of explanation.

"We work together," Paris said, not feeling like it was the right place to start declaring their romantic involvement.

"Right," Tristan exhaled.

"I thought Vikki said you'd be in New York," Paris said, feeling confused how he'd gotten there so quickly.

"Mom's birthday," Tristan replied, as if that was self explanatory. And in a way it was.

"Well then, I can take him home and you can get back to the party," Paris suggested, feeling a little protective of her right to take Silas home. It was an interesting feeling, very close to rivalry, which she really didn't recall feeling in a very long time.

"Where is Vikki? It's not really like her to...," Tristan began.

"Car accident, but she sounded fine, a little shaken up. But she went to get a CT scan just to be safe," Paris explained, wondering how much of this was ethical to tell him. But then again she was talking to another medical professional.

"You have a carseat?" Tristan asked, as if doubting she'd thought of that, actually proving to be a responsible parent at that point.

"I have two, same age group" Paris replied smugly.

"Okay," he exhaled. "But where are you taking him - I mean I don't expect you to have a key to the house," Tristan added, curiously.

"I don't, but I have a nanny at home and then I was going to go pick Vikki up from the hospital," Paris explained. Technically she knew where she hid the spare key, but that wasn't in her plans right now. "Her car is pretty banged up," she added.

"Let's go!" Silas objected, and the two got already a cautioning look from Mr. Giles who was not going to intervene more than that, but was simply hurrying them up. Silas was rather particular about the time - if it was one minute, it was exactly one minute.

"One more minute, I'm sorry, Silas," Tristan replied.

"He's not too great with unfamiliar nannies, you know that, right?" Tristan argued.

"Yeah, but he knows my kids who are there as well," Paris replied.

"Why don't I just take him to my parent's - my mom would be over the moon to see him and I can just drop him off later," Tristan suggested.

In some level Paris actually thought it was a good idea, she really didn't know how Silas would react to being with an unfamiliar nanny in a strange house that he'd never been to. But she just wasn't sure how Vikki felt about it.

"I'll try calling her, lets see what she thinks," Paris said and dialled Vikki's number. "Or maybe if she's done I can just drive by the hospital with Silas now," she added, while she waited for Vikki to pick up, but there was no answer. She knew it was unlikely they'd be done with her, and so did Tristian.

"She's probably being examined as we speak," Paris said and let her hand fall, holding the phone in her hand. The picture of Vikki on her contact was a sexy one, with her smiling sideways at the camera, definitely not one of her professional photographs, but Paris really wasn't paying much attention to it right now.

"He clearly wants to come with me right now, he might not even get into your car," Tristan continued.

"Alright," Paris relented, recalling Vikki's phone call to Tristian one night, when she'd claimed she was going to be driving home with a kicking and screaming 8-year old, because he'd had a change of plans. 8-year-olds were pretty strong. Paris hadn't really ever seen Silas on a bad day, hence she was feeling pretty insecure about the way he'd be with her. It had all happened so suddenly, she'd hardly had time to adjust to the whole concept of attempting to parent someone like Silas, even if she herself might have had some similar traits.

"Silas, we're leaving," Tristan said, gesturing for him to come with him, and the boy raised from his seat and headed out to the hallway.

"I'll just go to the hospital to check on her then, and maybe, you should have my number - just in case, maybe her battery is low or something," Paris replied, sounding a little worried. She shared her own number wirelessly with his phone.

They two walked out of the classroom, following Silas, who was appearing a little grumpy already.

"You're not just her co-worker are you?" Tristan said, having guessed it from a lot of things that she'd said, the contact picture he'd glimpsed at and the way she seemed concerned about her well-being and also about how she was handling the situation that had been trusted to her. Paris had been the person Vikki had called first.

Technically she could've said she was her employer. But as this was coming from Tristian, who was eventually going to find out anyway, she just didn't care for hiding it anymore.

"I'm not," Paris replied with a hesitant smile, as he watched Silas walk 10 ft in front of them, out of earshot. They still hadn't told the kids anything official.

Tristan didn't really respond in any way to the matter - he didn't seem upset, surprised or especially joyous, and simply tucked his hands into his pockets, and they walked out to the parking lot.

Considering the familiarity of the emergency room at Saint Francis and its staff it really didn't take Paris very long to be guided to the right partition, where she could find Vikki. Paris was calm and composed, concerned but definitely not panicky, knowing that it would do nothing to help the matter.

"Hey," Paris's demeanor changing from bossy and demanding to gentle as she saw her. Vikki already had her left arm in a sling, she was wearing a neck brace and the right side of her face had about four or five in smaller cuts, but it seemed she was more or less in one piece at least, making Paris sigh with relief.

"Hey," Vikki said, sounding excited to see her. She'd calmed noticably, but clearly looking exhausted from the entire ordeal.

"You look like you're in one piece at least," Paris kissed her in greeting, and continued to check her over with her eyes and grabbed the chart jammed into the front of her gurney and skimmed through the text.

"Barely," Vikki responded with some annoyment. "The guy ran a red light," she explained briefly. "How did it go with Silas?" was what Vikki really wanted to know.

Paris squinted her eyes apologetically, fearing her reaction.

"They called Tristian, and because we were there roughly at the same time he convinced me to let him take her. Silas seemed to want to go with him. I tried calling you, but... I just wasn't sure how to handle it. I thought maybe Silas would be upset if I took him to my place without warning...," Paris explained, shrugging her shoulder.

"Oh," Vikki responded with some surprise. "I'm surprised he was in town, but other than that I guess that's fine - did he say where he was taking him?" she asked. "They didn't allow me to use a phone in here - trust me, I tried," she muttered, knowing herself too well why that was.

"His mom's birthday apparently," Paris noted, casually.

"Alright, I guess I'll have a sugar loaded kid at the end of the day, but oh well - better that than...," Vikki replied, the crash having scared her thoroughly.

"Tristian sort of guessed we're involved," Paris admitted.

Vikki shrugged, only really able to shrug one of her shoulder though. "Did Silas find out?" she asked, like it was the only person who really mattered.

"I don't think so, he was out of earshot," Paris replied, holding her hand supportively.

"Good," Vikki exhaled. "I want it to come from me," she added, and Paris really couldn't argue with that. The same went for her kids.

"So, how long are they keeping you?" Paris asked loudly, hoping someone on the other side of the curtain would hear her.

"They're just checking over the X-rays once more, apparently the first picture was a little fuzzy. It's the question of how badly damaged my humerus is. I'm betting on a hairline fracture," Vikki explained, making an educated guess based on the pain level. But in reality all she hoped that she wouldn't have to get surgery.

"Good - do you need me to go make some calls?" Paris suggested, knowing what a pain an event like this, disrupting the normal life, could be.

That was just what Vikki wanted to hear, and handed over her phone with her password, and asked Paris to call her insurance company about not needing that replacement car right now as she couldn't drive with the injury and the rest that concerned her work Paris already knew how to handle.

As Paris returned, half an hour later or so, with some water and snacks for Vikki, feeling a little excited about having gotten to play watchdog for her injured girlfriend when she'd ran into Vikki's attending, an old aquaintance of hers, she returned and saw that Vikki was just given the all clear to leave. Paris helped her get dressed, her arm remaining in a sling and another splint having been set on her upper arm for the minor fracture she had, which meant she was going to be wearing that for a while. They got some pain meds for her to go, Paris making sure she was prescribed the non-addictive kind and drove her home.

"I didn't know you'd added me to the authorized pick-up list at Silas' school," Paris noted casually as they drove.

"I knew you'd help if it came to it," Vikki smiled humbly, blushing a little. In theory Tristian's parents were the last option call in this town, but Vikki really didn't like them much.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Paris replied, as she drove, squeezing her thigh through her slacks, as her left arm was in the sling.

Vikki also called Tristian from the car, letting him know she was heading home. Paris could tell Tristian had a few things to say concerning how she'd had Paris come and pick his son up, but it was rather about not knowing she'd been in an accident, which sounded like genuine concern, and perhaps some annoyment from being left out of the loop that other people were authorized to do it than genuine jealousy.

"He's bringing him in a half an hour," Vikki shared, as she'd disconnected the call.

"Listen, I want you to know that I didn't take Silas because I don't want to deal with him or because I have an issue with him - I was just caught a little off guard and I wasn't sure how he was going to handle my car and my house... I could use some practice with him before...," Paris explained, being a little nervous about how Vikki would percieve it.

"Yeah, I get it. He can be a little intimidating," Vikki replied. Silas was also rather tall, definitely taking after his father, unlike Timoteo for example, which made him look a lot like a pre-teen already. "But you'll get practice, I promise," Vikki assured her, humbly.

"Do you think Tristian has an issue with you dating me?" Paris asked, sounding a little worried.

"I don't care what he thinks. He might think it's a little weird, but I mean - at least he might more or less see the benefit in knowing you a little - you're not some complete stranger he has to start building trust with from the scratch," Vikki added.

Paris hadn't really thought about it from this angle, but most of these single-parent relationships seemed to move around the parent's concern about the kids - how they'd trust the other person with the kid, or how they got along with the kids. In her case, Paris almost felt like perhaps she should've thought more about it - but she hadn't been concerned about having Vikki around her kids at all. She trusted her.

"Maybe we should start telling the kids - I mean they're going to find out eventually, right?" Paris suggested, a little insecurely, hoping it wasn't too soon. She also knew that she needed to tell Doyle, which was likely going to be a bigger drama, as this was actually the first person she felt like coming out to.

"Okay," Vikki replied. "But not tonight, okay?" she replied with a yawn, clearly feeling rather tired.

"Do you want me to stick around, help you?" Paris offered. She knew she was probably going to need some help around the house. She felt bad for leaving her kids at home, but how could she not help her?

"Would you?" Vikki asked.

"Of course," she replied, and kissed her at a red traffic light. It was only slowly beginning to reach Paris, as the adrenaline wore down, that she nearly could've lost her.

What she didn't know at the time was that this was the beginning of them slowly moving in together - Vikki needing help with her arm and little by little they were going to start getting Silas adjusted to Paris' house.

Sherry stood at the doorstep of Emily's current place of residence, her friend Isabelle's place in the 16th arrondissement, having managed to find a parking spot just out front.

She knew the area was fancy, but hadn't quite expected to be greeted by a maid - it just wans't the Paris she knew - who invited her in after having asked for her name. To her surprise, she found Emily Gilmore already in the foyer, getting ready to leave herself. She'd seen her briefly, years ago at one of Rory's school functions, but they had never really spoken to each other.

"Hi, Mrs. Gilmore, it's nice to meet you," Sherry offered her hand in greeting to the woman who was pulling on her red leather gloves.

"Hello, just call me Emily, please," Emily said, with a smile that may have seemed a little forced, dressed in her red coat by now. She was doing this for Rory, Celeste and Rory's sister, as she was important to Rory.

"Here, these are the keys Rory asked me to give to you. But as I have little else planned for this afternoon I was hoping to accompany you to the place by Madeleine," Emily stated, and handed her the heavy plastic envelope, not sounding like she was really expecting an answer, and walked out of the door, expecting Sherry to follow. It wasn't really a suggestion one knew, especially out of the blue, how to decline.

Sherry followed her, watching her step, feeling the authority that radiated from Emily Gilmore. Emily was a lot like Christopher's mother to her, but several degrees sterner and more confident, hence it wasn't like she was never handled women like her before. She was just a fifteen years out of practice.

"This one is mine," Sherry opened the lock of her humble blue Volkswagen Polo, that was already over a decade old. "Do you want my help with the door?" she asked, unsure what Emily was expecting from her.

"I'm not completely incapable," Emily grumbled, and opened her own door, and took a seat in the passenger's seat. She, however, didn't remember the last time she sat in a car that small.

"I'm sure I could've handled checking this place out on my own," Sherry said, feeling a little confused as to why she was insisting on coming along.

"I understand that Rory and her friend Celeste are thinking about proposing that you take care of some of Celeste's properties, but I'm sure they're going to fill you in on their suggestion soon enough. But I just figured that since I'm here and I'm already a little involved with Celeste's personal business, I might just as well get a look at the place - maybe I can help, advise...," Emily spoke. When someone of her caliber offered her advice, it wasn't exactly polite to turn that down either. What Sherry didn't know, neither did Celeste nor Rory, was that Emily hadn't felt this useful in years with her so-called assignment, and she was rather reluctant for this little journey to come to an end.

Sherry didn't yet know anything about the proposal and almost wanted to argue that she already had a job. But they were right - it wasn't a fulltime job really, and considering how Rory had cautioned about mentioning this to Remi, she was beginning to get that perhaps they were planning something. She felt confused - on the one side she didn't recognize this attention that really was just caring, but on the other she felt betrayal and hurt, but more about so many people knowing about her business, at least to some extent, and pitying her rather than the fact that G, her sweet girl, had told them.

They drove the rest of the 15 minute drive in silence, most of it along the Seine. Finding a parking spot nearby was a little more challenging on a workday morning in the 8th arrondissement, and it took them a good 5 minutes to circle around the block on foot. Sherry was wearing her leggings and a lightweight down coat that came down to her mid-knee, along with sneakers which made it much easier for her to get around compared to Emily who hadn't really emphasized convenience that day. Emily expected the place to be grand, maybe even have a doorman - this was Odette Aubertin after all - and she didn't think it was right to show up in sneakers, feeling relieved to be balanacing Sherry out.

"I think this is it," Sherry said, looking at the address on her phone and the keys in her hand.

"Are you sure? This can't be right?" Emily exclaimed. It just seemed too common to her. No doubt pricey and prestigious - this was the 8th after all with the Champs-Élysée was right there, the Louvre a short walk away, the Avenue Montaigne held every designer boutique worth knowing, the Épicure, Le Cinq and Ledoyen were all just around the corner, but she was still a little underwhelmed.

Now Sherry just needed to figure out which key was the right one. These old houses often had a dozen various locks - for the recycling shed, front door, hallway door, which may or may not usually be locked, apartment, cupboards, car gates and so forth. She compared the locks and the keys and made a fair guess, the right one, and the door to the five-storey white stone building, like many others in Paris. What made this one special, though, was the classy restaurant downstairs and the way compared to the other buildings across the street which appeared more or less the same height, this one only had six stories, while others had seven, which meant this one had higher ceilings which was definitely a sign of wealth.

Sherry didn't hurry her step, letting Emily go first, seeming a little concerned for her health. But Emily was a champ - years of tennis, hikes along the dunes in Nantucket and gardening in the recent years, had kept her in fairly good health. Her knees hurt a little and she was a little out of breath by the time she reached the fifth floor, but so was Sherry.

Sherry flipped through the keys once again looking for the right one, at the same time hoping the place wouldn't have a security system installed.

"I'll just check real quick so there isn't an alarm," Sherry suggested and hopped in, quickly glancing over the entrance hall for an alarm console. There was one, but it said with clear letters "Disabled", allowing her to breathe a little easier.

"It's fine," she said, opening the door for Emily.

It was only then she really began to look around, taking in where she was.

The place was calm and spacious, fully furnished, but all of the items had been covered up with sheets and plastic covers - the place itself hadn't been cleaned in years, a thick layer of dust covering most surfaces.

"I'll just open the window, it's stuffy," Sherry said, and opened up the large windows that opened up to the balcony from the living room. From underneath some of the covers one could tell it was mostly decorated in mid-century modern, but also had some more modern - well a decade or two old-modern - furnishings. Large gold-frame paintings hung on the walls, grand mirrors and various smaller pieces of art hung on most walls. The kitchen was a bold Indian Pink shade and had a fierce white and gray patterned marble island, countertop and backsplash, as became clear when Emily raised part of it's plastic cover, making herself cough from the dust. The place was a decent size, the high ceilings giving the room some additional visual space as well. There was a bedroom, also rather boldly decorated, which held also a large wardrobe set, which to Emily really was no surprise considering the social calender Odette must've had back when she'd lived in this place.

"Well this is it," Emily exhaled, raised her hands in a shrugging motion, having not even removed her gloves.

"So they want me to do what with this place?" Sherry asked Emily, feeling left in the dark.

"I'm not sure - they were suggesting taking care of it, or maybe renting it out - they did also say that you could stay here if you needed to," Emily explained.

"So this belongs to Rory's friend? She isn't using it herself?" Sherry inquired, as she walked around the living room. The place was definitely gorgeous, it was dreamy. Sherry closed the window again, sensing the place getting too chilly.

"I think you should call them yourself. There is this other place as well, but I'm not exactly sure where this is. But I guess I can say this much that right now Celeste isn't using these," Emily explained based on the impression she'd gotten. She didn't quite understand Celeste choise not to use these properties - it wasn't like she couldn't travel, even if she had complex relations with her mother.

"Right," Sherry sighed, looking out of the window.

Emily was feeling like they were done with the place, and trying to respect Rory's wish, she wasn't going to push these painful topics onto Sherry right now no more than she had already hinted. But she could tell, Sherry was actually a little reluctant to leave.

"Sherry?" she asked.

"Yeah?" Sherry turned, eyes a little red. Her arms were crossed on her stomach, clearly feeling a little defencive.

"I promised Rory I wouldn't poke my nose into this - but as far as I understood they're offering you the place to stay in so you wouldn't have to stay with that man of your's. You daughter was pretty upset about what she learned before she turned up on my doorstep, she wants you to be happy. So when you do speak to them...," Emily began. She just wanted to assure her that Rory and Celeste meant well, that she'd turly consider this - whatever it was exactly that was the problem in her relationship.

"What? When did Gigi..?" she asked in confusion, her emotions getting pushed down for a moment.

"She showed up on my doorstep because she didn't feel safe staying at your place with that man," Emily explained, sounding a little annoyed for having to explain something she thought Sherry knew. Emily had just gotten a brief explanation of G having been in a fight with her mother due to some inappropriate behaviro of her stepfather, and that she needed a place to crash until her flight.

"I thought Gigi flew home," Sherry sighed, instead of anger feeling defeated. Her daughter had lied to her.

"She flew home on the 3rd, she couldn't get an earlier flight. I took her in the day before. She was heartbroken, worried about you, not to mention disturbed by the rest," Emily clarified.

Sherry didn't dare to say it, fearing Emily's judgement, but she didn't know where her daughter had spent the night on the day that she'd packed up her suitcase and walked out of their house. And she hadn't even asked whether she'd gotten home in one piece, let alone if she'd gotten a flight home. Without realizing Sherry was in tears.

"It's not supposed to happen to someone like me," Sherry whimpered, her shoulders hunched as she let her previously crossed arms fall, letting her defences down. "I'm not some uneducated woman in her 20s that makes mistakes like this - ends up with a guy like that," she sobbed.

Emily felt sorry for the woman. She offered her a hankerchief.

"Who makes mistakes like this? Who misses the warning signs that every third billboard warns you about these days in this country? Why did I bring G into this?" she asked, sobbingly, referring to the anti-abuse campaign they'd had all over the City just recently. She would've added 'What kind of mother sets her girl that kind of example?' but she just felt out of breath, she just couldn't do this anymore.

Sherry wasn't in her first youth, but she really didn't look a day over 40. But somehow it had happened to her. She didn't even tell Emily about all the details, it didn't seem relevant. There was nothing concerete she could press charges on - the few times he had grabbed her a little too strong which might have left a mark but it wasn't frequent, hence she had no proof. There was, however, all sorts of other types of controlling, picking and choosing what she did for work and who she hung out with. When she'd sent G to live in the States the man had treated her like dirt for months - from tiny comments like telling her how she needed to loose weight or suggesting her to get a second job to pay for plastic surgery, criticising everything she did to torturous silent treatment that had lasted for weeks. He'd invalidated her in front of their clients and joint friends, humiliated her in public on more than one occasion by having persuaded her wear clothes fit for a tramp, making her feel like she was going insane - that was just a small list of the ways he'd abused her.

No matter what had happened - she now wanted to get out. It wasn't that the apartment presented an appealing opportunity, which it did no doubt as well, but it was feeling the caring of the three women, four counting G, and she didn't even know the third. Rory had been so much stronger than she had been in so many situations - having stuck by her in an hospital bed giving birth to G, and she was doing it again.

With a shaky hand, she pulled off the plastic from one of the chairs, took a seat along with a deep breath and pulled out her phone, dialling Rory. She couldn't keep failing her daughter like this.

"So Finn, what is it that you do for a living?" a man, who looked like a spitting image of Kenneth Branagh, except for the hair which in his case was noticeably thinning, asked in a hoarse voice.

They were sitting at a red brick detached house on Nun's island, the humblest house of the block, but as the neighbourhood with Audis, Lexuses and BMW in front of most houses, and having passed a golf course, it was clear it was not a shabby neighbourhood. However, the insides of this house hardly reflected the wealth the man in front of Finn and Charlie was worth these days. All three of them were sitting on beige leather recliners that were a little saggy, a TV-tray was folded up by the side of the couch and the man, dressed in grey joggers, hadn't bothered with a single decorative element throughout the entire house.

Finn truly hated that question. Answering it always made him feel like he didn't do anything meaningful, that his schedule, like their presence in Charlie's father's, or John's, living room on a Friday afternoon demonstrated, was too flexible and that essentially he was simply slouching away on the family fortune.

"I'm an entertainment management consultant," Finn said, having thought of the job title on the spot. Well he was a consultant of sorts, he supposed. But this was closest to what he actually wanted to be. He was the person who knew what strings to pull, or who to call, to make things happen.

"Like Broadway or something?" John asked with a slight cough. The place smelled like cigarettes, hence the cough.

"No, I think it's more versatile than that, isn't it, Finn?" Charlie suggested Finn elaborate, feeling rather amused by the way Finn was bending the truth just a little. She understood what his issue with the job title was, so she was fine with whatever he chose to say.

"Concerts, performances, art exhibitions, recreational sports, magic shows, museums, celebrity sightings, dance events, costume parties - anything really," Finn listed, noting Charlie squinting her eyes at the 'costume parties', their last night's role play having hit a little too close to the discussion they were having.

"That's a broad playing field. What this tells me about you is that you must be quite a people person," John said, without embellishments that he was trying to get an understanding of him as a person.

"I guess I am," Finn shrugged.

"And no wonder, his family is huge and so friendly," Charlie explained. She'd already been over to his dad's once to tell him about her plans and overall about her trip, so this meeting was essentially just about meeting Finn and loading some of her boxes into his garage for safe keeping - things Charlie felt reluctant to part from but didn't feel the need to bring along either.

"Well my parents and my siblings certainly love Charlie, as do I," Finn stated, taking Charlie's hand. This must've been what men felt like when they were asking future father in law for the daughter's hand - Finn thought to himself.

"Well it looks like you've found yourself a fine man," John grumbled, approvingly, as he rised from his seat and walked over to his bar cabinet, and poured himself a scotch. "Would you like a drink?" he offered.

Finn was feeling a little puzzled - the whole meeting had lasted no more than 20 minutes and other than telling him how they'd met and a little about his family, homeland and his education, and as an interesting diversion - his taste in cars, the man had hardly inquired much that would've proved tricky for him to answer. He didn't know whether Charlie had told him about his net worth, but that was certainly one thing he'd decided to keep to himself for the time being - after all that shouldn't play any role in whether he liked or tolerated him.

"I'm fine," Charlie replied.

"Sure, single malt if you have," Finn said on auto-pilot, wondering whether that had been too presumptuous of him.

"Here, not my best bottle, but I'm saving that for a special occasion - you know like a wedding or the birth of another grandchild," John grumbled, handing Finn a scotch taking a sip of his own glass. Finn wasn't sure whether this was just the way he was, but considering Charlie couldn't have kids, the comment seemed a little tactless and Finn's eyes searched for Charlie's to see whether she was okay. If she was hurt by that, she wasn't showing it.

They talked some more, drinking their scotches, Charlie explaining their road trip plans which involved visiting her sister Olivia in Boston. They were also going to drive through New Haven, Finn wanting to show her his alma mater.

To Finn, John seemed like an odd man. He seemed a little sad and lonely, and for that - taking his daughter to another country made him actually feel guilty. But he couldn't quite figure out what the relationship was between them - they seemed friendly, but he could see Charlie being a little withheld around him.

When they got back in the car, Charlie insisting in driving her own Dodge Journey, which Finn was actually a little impressed with until he found out Greg had helped her pick it out, he decided to inquire into it.

"Your father is an odd man - he seems a little lonely and sad to be honest," Finn pointed out with all honesty.

"Well he is - he hasn't had much luck with wives, he has had a bunch of up and downs with his ventures, he's been treated for pancreatic cancer twice - now I just think he's tired of it all," Charlie explained, continuing to drive over the Nuns Island Bridge

"Yeah, but that's no reason to be mean...," Finn replied, hoping Charlie wouldn't be mean at him for pointing it out.

"What do you mean?" Charlie began, almost not following. "Oh, you mean that comment about grandkids and weddings?" she quessed.

"Yeah - I mean to rub it in like that, that's not very nice," Finn replied.

"He doesn't think he's doing anything wrong - he doesn't know what happened to me. As far as he know my trip was mostly about the breakup. Yeah, he knows I had some surgery, but he doesn't know the details. I didn't think it'd come up," Charlie explained.

"Oh," Finn reacted, now feeling like he'd perhaps judged the man a little unfairly just based on that once sentence.

"He was at the time getting chemo, it really didn't seem like the best time to tell him. And then a few months later he got good news and then I no longer felt like I needed to stick around for him for support - so I went to Australia," Charlie continued to explain.

Finn didn't reply with anything topical, asking something about the buildings they were passing instead. What he really wanted to ask her was why she hadn't told her when she got back - that type of thing was pretty significant and at least in Finn's family it would've been shared and news like that would've gotten support and caring in return. It was becoming clear to Finn that Charlie's family relations were much different than those that he was used to, and he hadn't even met her mother yet, and she hadn't even suggested he did. He wondered why, but didn't feel like ruining the good mood they had going otherwise.