CAN I SAIL THROUGH THE CHANGING
OCEAN TIDES? CAN I HANDLE THE
SEASONS OF MY LIFE?
fleetwood mac

RORY GRABBED HER COFFEE off the counter and muttered a "thank you" to the barista. Angelina had already gotten hers and was sitting at a two person table by the window of the shop. They sometimes got coffee together at a little shop by Rory's flat. It made her reminiscent of her days of working at The Gemini Café. The place they were at had the same sunny pastel feeling without being owned by the son (yes, Zane was now the owner) of the man who tortured her. The coffee wasn't as good, but sacrifices had to be made.

"How are you?" Angelina asked.

Rory shrugged, "I'm fine. I dunno why everyone is treating me like this again."

"I just asked how you were. You asked me how I was and I didn't start making accusations," she scoffed.

"Sorry," Rory sighed, "I just feel like... it's like when Cedric died all over again. Everyone is worried about me for some reason, like my dad inviting me over for dinner tonight."

"Ever thought maybe your dad just wants to see you?"

Rory blew on her coffee before answering. "I just don't want to get ambushed or something."

"That's fair."

The summer sunlight was hitting Rory's back through the large window that was facing the busy street. She realized as people walked past they were probably looking at her so she fixed her posture out of insecurity.

"What did you end up doing the other night?" Rory asked.

"Last Friday at the bar?" Angelina asked, swallowing her latte as she spoke. Rory nodded. "Oh! Nothing, really. That Ezra guy's friend drove me home. Although, I gave Ezra my telephone number and nothing so far... his friend seemed like your type."

"He was living and breathing though, wasn't he?" Rory joked.

Angelina looked at her sternly, "Rory..."

"I was kidding! What happened to your sense of humor, Angie?"

"Well, sometimes your jokes can make people uncomfortable."

Rory rolled her eyes, "Well they can fucking cope because last time I checked, I was the one with the dead boyfriend and it's my dead boyfriend to joke about —"

"Okay, you're right. Sorry." Angelina sighed.

There was a silence between the two women as they slowly sipped their coffee. Rory watched as Angelina's eyes darted around the shop and out the window, not landing on her.

Just as Rory was about to do her bidding and break the silence, Angelina nearly choked on her coffee.

"No way," she gasped. "No fucking way. Okay, Rory, look — oh my goodness, they're coming inside! Act natural."

"What are you talking about?" Rory asked, instinctively looking towards the door as the entrance bell dinged. She quickly turned back to Angelina and widened her eyes.

It was the men from the bar. Rory could immediately tell which one was her type, according to Angelina. He was clean and polished and probably smelled like books if she got closer. She was beginning to remember him better from when she met him at the bar. He was the unenthusiastic one. That night, she didn't get a good look at him, but now, in the soft sunlight, she could appreciate his appearance.

He had dark hair that was slightly curled and darker skin. His eyes looked dark too, like Rory's. He was handsome, definitely. Very very very very handsome. She was worried for him to open his mouth because that was when men usually messed things up. He was either going to be a gentleman or try to explain the plot of that Fight Club movie to her.

"Should I say something?" Angelina whispered.

Rory shrugged, "If you want."

"Maybe he lost my number or got it wrong — fuck, he's looking at us."

Rory turned her head to see they were looking at them in the most obvious way. She cleared her throat and spoke up. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, actually," the one she assumed to be called Ezra said, abandoning his spot in line and coming towards their table. His friend followed, looking slightly annoyed.

"Why haven't you called my friend here?" Rory asked, causing Angelina to kick her harshly under the table.

"Because your friend never gave me her number," Ezra said.

"Yes, I did," Angelina sneered.

"No," Ezra said in a very teasing tone. "You gave me her number." He nudged his head towards Rory. "And I called and — why don't you tell her what you said, yeah?"

Rory paused. It had only been less than a week since they went out and she had done absolutely nothing since then, but it was still very hard to remember.

Then it clicked. It had been two days after they had gone out and Rory heard her phone ring just before Percy was on his way to hers for dinner. She answered it and heard a man's voice on the other end.

All he said was something about meeting her at the bar. How was she supposed to know he was trying to reach Angelina? So, she said —

"If you're a man trying to reach Rory Archer regarding a one-night stand, she's dead," Rory said, "and then I hung up."

"Rory, what the fuck!?" Angelina groaned.

"Maybe don't give random men my phone number, Angelina," Rory spat.

"It was... an accident."

Ezra chuckled softly, "It's fine, really. I'm glad I ran into you again, though. Could I possibly get your real number this time?"

Rory's eyes drifted to his friend. Her eyes couldn't help but to look at him. She had forgotten his name.

"Thanks for driving her home," Rory said to him. "That doesn't mean I don't think you could be a serial killer still. I mean... it's sort of fishy how you two found us here. Are yous stalking us?"

He shook his head, "Not at all, darling. Although, I don't mind running into you again. Very glad to see you're alive."

"Are you trying to flirt with me? Seriously?" Rory scoffed. However, she secretly enjoyed it.

"Rory," Angelina sighed. "Sorry about her. She's naturally resentful of people."

"My boyfriend died, so." Rory said nonchalantly. She didn't mind joking about it all. Fred always encouraged it. He loved jokes, so what better way to go about his death?

"I'm so sorry, I —" the unnamed man began.

Angelina cut him off, "You're fine, Cassius."

"Says you," Rory muttered against her coffee cup. "Did you two get what you came for?"

Ezra nodded, clutching a napkin in his hand, "Yeah. I'll call you, Angelina... at least I'll try to."

They walked off not too far, getting back in line.

"That was horrid," Rory groaned.

"Why are you acting like this?"

She shrugged, "I always act like this." (Not true).

"Is this because —"

Rory cut her off, "Please. Don't."

So she didn't, and they enjoyed the rest of their morning coffee in peace.

RORY DIDN'T HATE GOING over her dad's house. Her dad understood her like no one else. They shared the same thoughts and the same laughter and the same taste in music and even the same mental illness. That would be lovely if Rory didn't absolutely hate herself. Spending time with her dad was spending time with a slightly more irresponsible, older, male version of herself.

But she had seventeen years of lost time to make up with him, so she never rejected a dinner invite. He was where she went when she had nowhere else to go, and it would be unfair to only go to him when she needed him.

So, no, she didn't hate going over her dad's but she didn't love it, that was for sure.

He didn't live too far from her (which was intentional given her mental state), so she walked. It was a warm summer evening, but the sun was still up. Madame Perkins recommended exercise as a way to clear her head. She went on the occasional run when she was feeling particularly stressed, but a nice walk was always her first choice.

The route to her dad's was so familiar she no longer needed to think about where she was going. Instead, she took in her surroundings and allowed herself to get lost in analysis of the world around her. As she left the busier part of town and entered the more residential area, the smell in the air shifted from fast food restaurants and burnt rubber to a bonfire. She loved the smoky smell of it all so much. It reminded her of Fred.

Fred.

Was Madame Perkins right about her being lost without him? Did she still need a security blanket at the age of twenty two? Surely not. The reason she was worse off a year ago was because of all her unresolved trauma. Nothing to do with Fred except the image of his dead body in her mind every time she tried to sleep! Now that she was getting help, she didn't need to worry about being apart from him. It wasn't like there was anything going on while she was at Hogwarts. He was a ghost, for Merlin's sake! It was like speaking to a memory or watching a home movie.

She wouldn't even consider them friends. Rory wasn't friends with ghosts, she couldn't be. They chatted between classes, and she turned a blind eye when she saw him prank around the castle with Peeves. It wasn't even Fred, really, so she had no reason to feel any different now that she couldn't see him until September.

Oh — she had made it to her dad's.

Andrew, Cordelia, and Emily had moved into a new house after the war. The one they were in held too many bad memories when it came to Aaron. They moved into a much nicer house. It was made of orange coloured bricks and had white trimming around the doors and windows. There was a small black gate leading away from a small walkway to the front door, which was good to have because Emily was a curious child. It was such a lovely house in a lovely part of town with lovely people inside.

She could hear the sound of the piano as she approached the door. It brought a smile to her face as she knocked firmly on the sleek black door. Within seconds, Cordelia answered with a bright smile.

"Hello, Rory!" She beamed, pulling her in for a hug.

"Hey, Mum."

"We're so glad you could come over," the woman said, softly pulling away from the hug.

Andrew was at the piano with Emily on his lap, playing a song she recognized as the child's namesake: "For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her". It seemed he was so focussed on playing and singing, he didn't even notice Rory had arrived. She didn't mind as she got the same way when she was in the "zone". It was sweet to watch.

Despite Emily's blonde hair and bright blue eyes, seeing her with Andrew was like a glimpse into Rory's own childhood, like she was looking at pictures of it. He acted the same way with both of his daughters. Rory just hoped Emily would have it easier. Generational trauma was going to make that very difficult, though.

"I'd interrupt him, but Emily wouldn't like that very much," Cordelia sighed. "D'you need something to drink? I'll get you some water! Just sit tight in the living room, yeah?"

"Thanks," Rory said quietly, sitting on a chocolate brown couch as Andrew ended the song.

"Rory!" He beamed, sliding off the piano bench and placing Emily on her feet on the hardwood floor. The child waved to Rory and then ran off to find her mother.

"Hi, Dad!"

"How are you?" He asked in a more gentle tone, sitting next to her on the couch. Rory had to physically force herself not to roll her eyes.

"I'm amazing," she said simply. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged, "Well, you know... you can't really distract yourself with work for a while and so I'm worried —"

"I don't need work to distract myself, Dad." She said as Cory handed her a glass of water, "Thanks — I don't even need a distraction at all. I'm doing really well, can't you see that?"

"I do," he said. "I just worry about you all the time. We both do — Cordelia and I. You mean so much to us and — "

"I know. I swear I'm alright, you don't have to worry," Rory said with a dismissive chuckle.

Andrew sighed, "Alright. Well, that's good to hear. Are you hungry?"

She nodded and Andrew smiled softly. "Good. I made your favorite."

"That was nice of you."

"Anything for my girls," he said, moving his gaze from Rory to Cordelia to Emily. They moved into the dinning room where the table was set with Rory's favorite as a kid, spaghetti and meatballs. It was going better than expected. Sure, there was still a slightly nurturing tone in everything her parents said... but that was because they were parents.

After they ate, it was still light out, so they decided to congregate in the small back garden. It was warm, but slowly getting cooler as the sun went down. Rory sat in a cushioned outdoor chair next to Andrew while Cordelia blew bubbles for Emily in the grass.

"How has Emily been?" Rory asked Andrew.

"She's... very much your sister."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rory scoffed, but with a smile.

"She's a bit temperamental."

"That's not because she's my sister, that's because she's your daughter."

He chuckled softly and nodded in agreement.

"Cory won't stop talking about your friend Angelina," Andrew said. "Says she's one of the greatest players of her age. Once the season starts and people see her play, everyone is going to be obsessed."

"Everyone is already obsessed with Angelina," Rory joked. It was partially true. It was less likely for people to want to just sleep with her. They always went out again or wanted to. Maybe it was because Rory let herself be used in that way and Angelina didn't. It was probably because Angelina was just more likable, though.

"How's Madame Perkins? Everything alright? Is she working for you?"

Rory sighed, she knew he was going to bring up her sessions.

"She's fine. The medication is better, though."

"And why's that?"

She shrugged, "The medicine doesn't tell me I'm broken."

"And neither does Madame Perkins. You aren't broken because you've got mental illness if that's what you're talking about. What, do you think I'm broken?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No," she said quietly. "I guess not. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, love."

"Sor — shit, sorry. Fuck. I need to stop doing that... Can I ask you something sort of personal?" She blurted out.

"That's what I'm here for," he said, sounding slightly nervous.

Rory exhaled sharply, "After you and Christine split up, how did you know you were going to be ready for an actual relationship again?"

She had been pondering on the concept for a while, actually being with someone else. She wanted to be ready. She wanted to go on dates and be vulnerable with someone again. It wasn't fair she only had one boyfriend in her whole life and he died on her. Nearly everyone in her life told her she deserved to be happy again. Who understood better than her dad?

"Why? Have you met someone?"

Rory couldn't help but laugh a bit, "No. Don't be silly."

He shrugged, "Well... the reason I ask is because I wasn't ready until I met the right person." He was looking ahead at Cordelia now with a loving smile. She was giggling with Emily as they popped the bubbles floating into the summer sky.

Rory groaned, "So you're saying it took you seventeen years? There was never anyone else before Cory?"

"There were other... people but none I ever actually dated, I guess. It's just the truth. You might find someone tomorrow. You might have already met the right person. You'll know when you're ready. Life is all about trial and error. Don't think it's going to be like this forever."

"I don't want to be like this for seventeen more years!" Rory said, tightly shutting her eyes.

"Yeah, but it was worth the wait for me, wasn't it? My Cordelia is the best thing to happen to any of us."

Rory nodded in agreement. She wondered in the back of her mind if she would ever be anyone's 'Rory' again. Would anyone ever look at her the way her father looked at her mother? Would anyone actually want to get to know her beyond the physical aspects she could offer them? Or would she be frozen in nineteen ninety eight forever?

"I think I should go home before it gets too dark," she sighed.

"You're walking? Are you sure that's safe? By the time you get halfway, the sun'll be down." He said concerned.

Rory nodded, "I've got my wand. I'll be fine. I'm a big girl, Dad. I can handle a ten minute walk in the dark."

"Call me when you're home, okay?"

She nodded and said goodbye to him and Cordelia and Emily.

"Don't go, Ro Ro," Emily pouted.

"I'll be back, Emmy," Rory smiled. "I love you."

"I love you," the child giggled. Rory planted a kiss on the top of her head and left. The walk back to hers wasn't bad. She considered stopping at a bar or something on the way to maybe take number eight home. But she didn't. She went home and called her dad and made herself tea and went to sleep. She always hated sharing her bed anyway.

a/n

sorry i've been so inactive! despite being on spring break, i haven't had any inspiration but i thought i'd post a prewritten chapter to thank you all for 100k votes on wild!!