Lately, she'd been having nightmares. Those nightmares began before the breakup, shortly after her strange dream involving both the canine Paul Anka and the real Paul Anka. They'd steadily worsened ever since she had broken up with Luke over the way he had treated her about his kid. Nightmares were a new experience for Lorelai. She'd certainly had a couple years of blissful sleep. Sleep that was only interrupted by the fulfillment of sexual desires and wants, by expressions of love and sexual comfort. But then her daytime life had turned into a nightmare as her beloved Luke had slowly slipped away from her.
Even after the breakup, when she fell asleep at night, her last waking thoughts were of Luke, and she woke up thinking about Luke. She loved him.
But now, during a muggy summer night, just barely a year since she'd so magically proposed to Luke, her nightmare would be the same as always: involving a struggle, and a man's screams. Luke's screams.
But strangely enough, not the screams of passion, she thought to herself. And even as she remembered those sounds of passion, her hand betrayed her, wandering southward, starting the process of pleasuring herself.
She saw his face in the throes of passion and wondered if she'd ever see it that way again.
Soon, she gave up. Sexual gratification was not important any longer. Not when he wasn't there. Lorelai fell asleep, her damp t-shirt and panties clinging to her body.
And the nightmares began. What had she done, she now wondered, to have such nightmares in the bed and room that had been the scene of so much joy? She could understand if she'd kept Luke's grandmother's bedroom set, but in her beautiful new room? She turned onto her side, alone in the big bed, wondering where her daughter was this night, the daughter who had eloped.
That was another nightmare. To have postponed her own wedding during the rift with her daughter, only to have her daughter elope without saying a word to her. What was it that King Lear had said? She wracked her brain, hearkening back to her last year in high school. Ah, yes. Sharper than a serpent's tooth…
She turned in her sleep, once more, her t-shirt still clinging, still sticky.
-----
It was around three AM. June 3, 2006. Lorelai found herself in Luke's Diner. She still had her own key. She stopped for a second as she crept through the shuttered establishment, wondering just why she was there, and why she was now walking up the stairs. And why was she banging on his apartment door?
After a beat or two, a sleep-addled Luke opened the door and immediately, his eyes clouded with concern.
She noticed that he was only clad in boxers.
He noticed that she was only clad in a damp t-shirt and skimpy panties. Had she really made her way to the diner dressed like that?
"Lorelai?"
The bastard was surprised that she'd shown up, disheveled, in the middle of the night. Hell, what did he expect?
He squinted at her, then ushered her in. Her hair was Johnny-Depp-bed-head at its worst, and her eyes were black-ringed with the mascara she'd neglected to take off since putting it on three days prior.
"Lorelai?" Luke asked again, obviously concerned.
"You remember who I am," she stated sarcastically.
"Lorelai." This time, just a statement from him, resigned, almost sighing.
"Wow. A rocket scientist. April must be rubbing off on you."
"Lorelai. Come on." Again, his tone was resigned, and he definitely sighed.
She snorted, and tossed her head, her hair no longer flying like he loved, but just damply clinging to her head.
"What's wrong? Are you OK?" he inquired.
"OK?" Her voice was still calm, just more assertive. "Hell no! I've been ditched for a kid." She pushed him aside with a curt shove to the chest with one hand as she stumbled inside his apartment. "Gotta hand it to you, buster. Other guys cheat with their bodies. You, you cheated with your mind."
"Uh, Lorelai, have you been drinking?"
"What?" Then she remembered Lane's wedding, and laughed, bitterness in her tone. "Lovely. A girl gets drunk once, ONCE, and you assume she's an alcoholic…"
"Of course not, Lorelai. I'm sorry. Come in, sit down." Luke motioned to his couch.
Luke looked at her with concern, and the more concerned he seemed, the more irritated Lorelai became.
She clenched her fingers into fists and balled them against her knees. "Damn it, Luke, why?"
A little taken aback, Luke reached his hand out automatically for her face; she turned away.
"Oh, okay, sorry," he told her, his tone regretful and sad. "I never meant…"
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound the humming of the apartment's air conditioning.
Suddenly, Lorelai spoke once more, in the most dispassionate voice Luke had ever heard her use. "Take me to bed, Luke."
"Are you tired?"
"Hell no. Fuck me, Luke, one last time."
Lorelai pulled her t-shirt over her head, continuing with her demand. "You owe me. You. Owe. Me. For everything you put me through."
Her voice was still dispassionate; and her eyes were cold, Luke noted with a pang.
"Lorelai…" Luke tried to put as much compassion into his voice as he could.
"What, Luke? What did I ever do but love you?"
And that's when his eyes noticed it. The shiny necklace around her neck. The one Logan had given him to present to her on their Valentines' weekend.
Seemingly oblivious to her nakedness, Lorelai's hand flew to her throat.
"So you noticed," she dryly explained.
"I can explain…"
"Fuck you." And her hand jerked forward as she ripped the necklace from her neck, breaking the clasp, as she flung it at Luke's feet.
And as she threw the necklace, she got up and began to stagger towards his bed.
'There's nothing sexy about this', he thought, as he watched her stumble.
But even so, Luke was a man, and this woman was still beautiful and a man's body will betray him every time. He wasn't the one who'd wanted the breakup, he rationalized as his eyes followed Lorelai as she reached the bed.
He arose and followed her, sitting next to her at the foot of the bed.
"Why, Luke?" she asked, matter-of-factly.
"It was just so overwhelming. You know how I am. I told you. I can't deal with…"
"Bullshit," Lorelai replied, her voice once again even. "You know, I thought I knew you, Luke. Knew how your mind worked. Knew how to use the hair flip to my advantage." Lorelai took a deep breath, hesitating, before boldly proceeding. "But you know what? The joke's on poor Lorelai. All these weak, weak men. Christopher. Max. Jason. You. I thought you were better than them. The perfect man, right?" She bitterly proclaimed. "But ya know what?"
"What?" Luke answered, flatly.
"I found out the one big thing. That there's a lot I don't know about you."
"No, no," Luke replied softly, his voice resonating with the same timbre he had when he'd sworn her to their truthfulness pact. "No, no. You know me better than anyone else does."
"See, that's what I thought. Once upon a time. And poor, stupid, Lorelai, I kept reporting in whenever Christopher contacted me. And all the while, you cheated on me. Emotionally." Now, finally, he saw that she was crying. "I didn't believe it at first. But then when Lane told me she'd spent time with April…the whole fucking town, Luke…"
He was no longer looking at her. Rather, he was looking everywhere else--at the door, at the walls, at the floor. "I'm sorry, Lorelai," he murmured, "So sorry. I didn't…"
"Shut up!" Her voice was now raised.
"But I am," he continued. "I should have told you about April right away. It's just that--it was so sudden. And I thought," his voice hitched, and then continued, hoarsely, "that it would ruin things."
She laughed, bitterly, and lay down on the bed. Still topless.
Luke was still looking at her, upset, sorrowful. He grabbed a bath towel from the chair next to the bed and tried to cover her nakedness.
Lorelai reached out to move his arm away.
He persisted in covering her.
"I loved you, Luke." Her voice tumbled over the words. "More than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. And this hurts."
"And you know that I love you," he attempted to reassure her.
"Funny way you have of showing me…" she muttered.
"No, let me say this. I love you, Lorelai Gilmore, more than I've ever loved any woman in my life."
Again, Lorelai responded with a short, bitter laugh. And then she bolted upright.
For just a moment, he thought she was the Lorelai of months before. A passionate, loving woman, not this poor bereft broken person in front of him. She leaned towards him, and like a moth to flame, he responded.
Their lips met, and for the longest fraction of a second, one could have interpreted their action as a loving kiss as lips brushed against lips. And then all hell broke loose as she grabbed him and he grabbed her and their mouths thirstily collided.
"Loved you," she slurred, moving her mouth to his throat. She flicked her tongue, tasting him, the salt and the sweetness.
Luke's fingers immediately tangled in her hair, combing through the sticky strands.
"I know--" he responded, as his hand tilted her chin up to him so he could kiss her, fiercely, desperately. His tongue brushed against hers, stroking, gliding, then moving over her teeth. He'd never dreamed he'd get to be here again.
Her hands moved to his shoulders and then downward as she traced the contours of his ribs, then his abdomen, downward, downward, until she felt him tremble as her fingers slipped just beneath the waistband of his boxers.
That prompted him to place his hands on her breasts, rubbing his palms lightly over her taut nipples. Luke knew her too well, she thought, as he drew slow, exquisitely tender circles with his palms, barely touching her. 'Damn him', she thought, as her body betrayed her as she arched toward him.
But then she realized her power. Beneath her fingers, beneath the boxers, she felt his hardness and heat as she cupped him. When they were together, she often was so gentle at first as she stroked him, tracing his length, his breadth, maddeningly building up the intensity.
But not tonight.
She was rough and demanding as she literally manhandled him, and then released him.
"What the fuck, Lorelai?" he whispered.
She slipped off her panties.
"Fuck me, Luke."
For a moment, he couldn't draw a breath. This was a Lorelai he'd never seen. A pang of regret hit him as part of his brain told him that this Lorelai was all his fault.
"Now, Luke," she demanded, pushing her hips closer to him.
-----
Later, after the last flutters within her had ended, Lorelai felt cheap and used. Even though she had done the using.
A few hours later, Lorelai awoke. Her arm was flung across his chest and one of his hands encircled her breast. The stickiness between her legs left no doubt as to what had happened earlier.
Luke was asleep. She tested the waters by first moving, then giving him a slight push. Definitely out for the night. In return, she felt his weight, dull and heavy, as she pressed her body against his.
"I loved you, Luke," she sighed, as she lifted his hand from her breast and placed it alongside his body.
He never knew what happened. Never knew that it was she who grabbed his own pillow and placed it, in slow motion, over the mouth she had ravished just mere hours before. He never saw the pillow descending upon his lips, his nose, his eyes; nor did he feel her weight as she smashed herself down upon the pillow, staying there until he no longer moved. He did not see the vacant, faraway, detached look in her eyes as she watched him kick his legs in futile struggle, nor did he hear any reaction to his silenced screams.
No, Luke did not see or hear any of this. And strangely, neither did Lorelai. In her own world, she could not hear him.
After Luke's body went still, Lorelai remained draped over the pillow. "I loved you," she whispered, "It's June 3. Our wedding day."
-----
Luke awoke in a cold sweat. His body was drenched as he fought to come to terms with the reality that he had just slept through a horrendous nightmare. His arms clutched his sweat-soaked pillow.
Slowly, he sat up, his heart rate racing.
Lorelai. Oh god, he groaned to himself. Had he really done that to her?
He had.
He looked around the room, searching for her, then realized, as his eyes noticed the ring on his nightstand, that she had broken up with him.
No wonder.
It was June 3, the day they were to be married.
The early morning sun began to illuminate his room with its bright golden light peeking in through the slats of the blinds. From the town square, he could hear birds chirping. A beautiful day for a beautiful bride.
But he, Luke Danes, was once more at life's table for one.
He pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He'd really screwed up, he realized. How could he not have remembered that together, they were stronger than they could ever be apart? That they fit together like two pieces of a single puzzle: her goodness, her warmth, her sparkle complementing everything about him.
He needed to fix this.
-----
The early morning knock on her door woke Lorelai from her fitful sleep. The nightmares had continued all night, and she was already dreading this day that was to have been the day she became his bride.
No matter that she wasn't sleeping well, it still was unpleasant waking from such a fitful slumber. Her nerves were wracked, jangled, and she rubbed her eyes as she blinked away sleep and turned to the door as it opened.
"Luke!" she whispered.
Of course, he still had his keys, she remembered.
Luke's face was scrunched, lined and grey.
"I…I couldn't sleep," he whispered.
"Nightmare?" she asked, half-joking.
"Yeah."
"It's way too early…" she replied. "Not a good day for me…"
"I know."
"You OK?" she asked.
"No," he admitted.
"The nightmare?"
"Yeah."
In spite of her sorrow about their break-up, she still loved him. The thudding heart in her chest only magnified her feelings as instinct took over. "Can you remember any of it?"
He was quiet as he sat down at the edge of the bed.
"Luke?"
"All of it." He could not look at her as he shuddered. "I messed this up so bad…"
She waited for him to continue.
"I'm so sorry, Lorelai. You were my best friend and the best thing that ever happened to me."
Lorelai nodded her head. "Then why?"
"I screwed up. The whole April thing. And I never saw it happening." Luke took a deep breath. "And you never told me…"
"I'm sorry too, Luke," Lorelai acknowledged. "Look, today is not going to be a good day for me. I'm just going to wallow here today," she patted the bed, "and then hopefully be able to move on."
"I don't want you to…move on."
"But you…and April…"
"I messed up. I need you, Lorelai. I can't do any of this," he vaguely circled a hand in the air, "without you. Even April."
"I know."
She took his hand and sat in silence for a few minutes, before asking, "Monday night? You doing anything?"
He thought for a second, his heart beating faster. "Uh no, well there might be a Sox game…"
"Pick me up here at six," she stated. "You can take me to that new sports bar in Woodbridge."
He looked up at her, surprised.
"What? We're starting over. That means you--" she poked him in the chest, "get to take me out on a date."
Luke grinned, his first genuine smile in days. Lorelai continued to hold onto his hand.
"Uh," he broke the silence. "You doing anything for dinner on Tuesday or Thursday?"
Her eyes met his.
"Maybe you could start dropping by the diner. You know, have dinner. With April and me."
She nodded, smiling in spite of herself. He leaned in for a kiss.
"Oh no, not so fast there, Mister."
Luke was perplexed.
"The air conditioner, it's making a funny sound…"
He sighed. "Tool box?"
"Right where it's always been…"