Author's Note: Hey folks :) This is my first multi part story that I've actually felt like putting on here and intend on finishing...so be honest and all that good stuff.

The facts: It takes place somewhere in season 6. Probably end of season 5/beginning of season 6. Luke and Lorelai have been together a year or so, Rory's entering her Junior year of Yale, and everyone else is pretty much the same. Oh, Sookie hasn't had her baby yet, I'll try to incorporate that into the story at some point.

R/R please, and I apologize that the first chapter is so short!

Phone Tag

She never wanted anything more in her life than she wanted this right now. She paced back and forth, occasionally forgetting to breathe, waiting. It was all a waiting game now, and no matter what happened she couldn't change it. Maybe it would help things, but then again it could drive the wedge between the two of them in even further.

That was the absolute last thing she wanted.

She checked her watch for probably the eightieth time in the past two minutes, and watched painstakingly as the second hand slowly ticked by. It always seems that in times where you want the time to go faster, it always seems to drag on slower and slower until it seems like it's at a standstill.

The only sound she heard in the entire house was the pounding of her heart, the ticking of the second had, and the slight shuffle her bare feet made on the floor boards. She'd been tempted to turn on music to calm her down a little bit, but after knocking over the entire CD tower because she was shaking so bad, she'd given up on that ploy.

She checked her watch for the eighty-first time and let out a breath. It was finally time. She hesitantly crossed the room and looked at the nondescript thing lying on her dresser. She muffled a sob, and picked it up and held it in her hand as she crossed to the bed to sit down before she fell down.

It was pink. The god-damn stick was pink. She'd had a feeling it would be, but she convinced herself that maybe there was a chance in hell it wouldn't be. All she wanted to do right now was throw the stick across the room and then drink herself into oblivion, but she knew the latter wasn't an option. She sat it on her bed and stared at it, trying to will it to turn blue, but no such luck.

How was she going to tell him? She had hardly spoken to him in a week and a half, and he'd made no effort to talk to her either. She didn't quite understand, but now she had no choice but to tell him.

She rationalized for a second. She did have a choice, but she couldn't just not tell him. It wouldn't be fair for her to deprive him of knowing, and at least giving him the chance to decide.

Shit. She thought. What if he runs…I mean I could handle it. It'd be different this time, but I don't think he'd run. He's not like that…at least I don't think he is…shit.

She went downstairs and picked up the phone. Dialing his number her fingers went on autopilot. She'd dialed the number so many times, it was like second nature to her. She let it ring, and was tempted to hang up when she heard his voice. She held on for a second longer, and realized it was just his voicemail. She listened and waited for the beep and left a hurried message.

"Hey…it's me. Um, I know we aren't on the best terms…hell I don't even know if I should be calling us a "we" anymore. But, I need to talk to you, soon. I guess you're screening your calls or something because you should be home by now…but yeah. Um, call me back. It's kind of important…but if you don't want to I understand. I could tell you on here…but this kind of needs to be face to face. Call me back and let me know when you get this. I lov…bye."

He stared at the answering machine as her voice filtered through it. He was worried, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't. Her normally confident voice had a crack to it, and she wasn't being blunt, which was stranger than everything.

He turned the TV back on to the ballgame that had been playing when she called, only now it wasn't holding his attention. Before he'd used it as a way to drive her out of his head after seeing a glimpse of her that afternoon, now it was just noise in the background as he fretted over what was so important she couldn't tell him on the phone.

The fact that she'd gone to say "I love you" and then stopped bothered him as well. He sure as hell still loved her, and hadn't been sure if she was still in love with him. He worried about it every day, but when she almost said it, it had made his heart jump. He attempted to find something to hold his attention on the TV, and when that didn't happen he got up, got a beer and downed it quickly.

He slowly changed into boxers and a t-shirt and climbed into bed, immediately wishing her warm body was next to him, it was weird but "her" pillow still smelled like her.

He stared at the ceiling for a long while before getting up and picking up his cordless phone and dialed the number he'd called so many times before.

She was laying on her bed, the discarded stick laying a few feet away on the dresser, and her eyes were glued to it. She'd waited an hour or two for him to call her back, hoping he'd picked up on the urgency in her voice, but when he didn't she'd given up and taken a shower and gone to bed.

But she couldn't sleep. She'd begun to cry earlier in the shower, and had finally been able to reduce it to the occasional sniffle and hiccup. She didn't know why she was crying, she was happy…but not at the same time. She missed him more than he could possibly know and hated that they weren't speaking.

She was finally about to give up and roll over and go to sleep when the phone rang. She stiffened, hesitating to get up and answer it. She untangled herself from the sheets and walked into the hall and halfway down the stairs listening for the beep.

"Hey it's me, phone is lost under the mountain of clothes upstairs probably, leave one and I'll call you back when I find it," her voice echoed through the emptiness of the house.

"Hey Lorelai…it's me," his voice came through the machine and she stiffened, her heart jumping into her throat. "I got your message and was going to call you back earlier but I got…distracted. Anytime tomorrow is fine to talk. Just…come by and let me know when. I guess that's it…I'll um…see you tomorrow."

She breathed for what felt like the first time that evening, and when the breath let out it was shaky, and her entire body shook from both relief and fear of the conversation to come. She couldn't read his voice on the machine if he was concerned or angry or just being himself. Reading him had always been an issue until they'd gotten together, and for the past week and a half the year they'd been together seemed like it never existed.

She rolled over on the bed, pulling the crazy quilt up around her ears, and wiped her eyes again and slowly let herself fall asleep, tear stained face and all. She paid no mind to the mascara that was currently staining her white Egyptian cotton sheets, or that she was still completely clothed. She didn't care anymore. She just wanted to sleep, and maybe when she woke up she would discover it was all a dream.