Edited, because tense is important, and so is this silly little note telling you that I do not own Gilmore Girls…

It's been said before and likely to be said again, but all good things do come to an end.

However, there is a train of thought that endings are merely ciphers, nothing of any consequence. All endings are also beginnings. There is symmetry in that thought, a sense of something greater and a sense of fulfillment.

The soft glare from the diner lights up the surrounding darkness. The town is outfitted in twinkle lights and the various denizens stroll by at a leisurely pace, but the only thing that is noticeable is the pane of glass spelling out Luke's Diner. Upon closer inspection, the lettering fades and the scene unfolding within the building becomes clearer.

Two women, one dark and vivacious, the other quietly charming, sit center stage. There may be other people around them, but they are the center of this universe. Without hearing a word it is obvious that the two are deep in conversation, completely wrapped in the words tripping out of their lips. The darker one pauses and glances at her coffee mug with a small pout forming on her lips. A flannel-clad man steps out of the shadows and enters the conversation. His smile is begrudging, but happy. The look that the woman flashes in return appears infinitely private, and probably is. The man blushes and the women laugh and then he disappears again into the lingering background.

It's only the two of them again. This is their ending and their beginning all in one. The window fades to black.

"Mom, it's something I have to do."

She glances up at her daughter, trying to keep her expression neutral. She hadn't expected this day to come so soon. Had secretly hoped that it would never come. "I know Hun." Her words are tinged with resignation, but she makes an effort to cover it with cheer.

Her daughter can read her better than anyone though. She can hear the thoughts that have been left unsaid. "Mom."

Her mother puts out a hand to stall the protest. "I know. Rory, I do. And I'm happy for you. Really. Just. Just give me a couple hundred years to process."

"Mom." The word is now colored with exasperation.

She swallows and takes a deep breath before meeting the oceanic blue of her daughter's eyes. "You're going."

"I am." There's no need to mince words anymore.

"I'm going to miss you. Promise you're going to be terribly homesick?"

The delay in the reply is teasing not cruel. "Call me Peppermint Patty." A pause, and then. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Hun, I'm not going to be the one writing from fox holes in some war ravaged country."

"Mom, I'm going to be writing dispatches from the UN headquarters."

"But you never know when Geneva could be taken over by a coup d'etat."

"Sure, and Canada's working on its invasion plans as we speak."

"Canadian Bacon, here we come!"

"Seriously."

"Have you ever know me to be otherwise?"

"Has Luke been cutting back your coffee intake again?"

The face of mock horror fades into a sad smile. "I'm going to miss you kid."

"Me too."

Subconsciously, she toyed with his fingers. "She's growing up Luke."

His grasp tightened around hers and she looked up in surprise. "She's grown up."

"Not Rory." Her lowered eyelashes hid the tears.

"Even Rory," he whispered. "Even you."

"Luke…" She tried to protest, but her voice faltered before she could choke out his name.

"You're not losing her, you know."

"But if she's all grown…"

"She still needs you."

"You mean, I need her, don't you? She's proven that she can live without me."

"She came back."

"So did you." Her last statement twisted lightly in the air between them. He said nothing, but refused to give up his hold on her hand.

"Luke, do you think?"

"You've got this light."

"What?" But his hand placed gently over her lip smothered her questions.

"You attract people to you. You can't help it. We can't help it. We."

"So you and Rory are moths to my flame?"

"That's not."

"Ooh and I lure you in with my heat and my warmth only to fry you when you get too close?"

She could almost hear the soft rustle of his eyes rolling. "That's not what I was saying."

The pillow muffled her giggles as he turned on his side towards her.

"Lorelai."

She lifted her head again, and with her eyes, traced the faint features of his face. "Say it again."

"What?"

"My name. Say it again Luke."

"Lorelai," he growled and the laughter issued forth again. He kissed her roughly. She responded with equal force.

"Say my name."

"Lorelai," he groaned as her lips ventured southwards. "Lorelai."

"One last time kid, pretty please?"

"Mom, I have to pack, my flight…"

"Leaves tomorrow at ten. You've got hours Ms. OCD."

"But I don't want to forget anything and you know that I like…" She tried to fight the smile that formed in response to her mother's hyper entreaties.

"You know you wanna!"

"But Mom…"

"Yes!"

"I didn't say…"

"Oh, but you will Rory. Why fight it?"

"Because it's the defining mark of my sanity." With an exaggerated sigh, she gave in. "Okay."

"Wee! Let's go now?"

"Yes Mom, now. The sooner we go, the sooner I…"

"Uh un."

"What?"

"No more talking of this leaving thing tonight. Tonight, everything is the way it's always been. You're sixteen and I'm thirty-two and nothing else has happened in between."

"Nothing else?"

"Nope. Nothing."

"Not Chilton, not Friday Night Dinner's, not Max, not…"

The pout returned with a vengeance. "You're an evil, evil child."

"Not my graduation, not your graduation, not Yale, not Europe?"

"Well…"

"Not Luke?"

And there it was; defeat. "Can we at least forget Jess?"

Rory's smile was triumphant. "I'm willing if you are."

"It's a deal." They shook with a pinky swear and began to amble towards their separate rooms when Lorelai swirled around. "No fair!" She marched down the stairs and grabbed Rory by the arm.

"Mom!"

"One last time kid, that's all." Their eyes locked and a wave of emotion threatened each.

Linking her mother's arm in hers as they wandered out the door, Rory murmured, "One last time."

Nothing in the diner had changed, and for that, she was relieved.

"Rory?" Luke's head jerked up from his ministrations on the toaster.

She slid easily onto a stool and gave him a timid smile. "Hey Luke. Coffee?"

His gaze indicated that she'd grown another head. She patted her shoulder just to make sure.

"Rory." He repeated, as if trying to familiarize himself with her name.

"You've said that already. How about a coffee instead?"

With a shake of his head, he returned from his stupor. "What are you doing here?"

The shock at his abrupt tone of voice registered on her crystal features. She hesitated, watching him, before glibly responding. "Looking for coffee?" Her eyes pleaded with him to comply.

He poured her beverage with a grumble. "Rory…"

"Is she still mad at me?"

His shoulders sagged in defeat. "She was never mad."

"Could have fooled me."

"You hurt her."

"So did you." She regretted the words as they escaped her mouth. "Oh god, I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No Luke. I. It's none of my business."

"She's gone."

The blue eyes widened in shock.

"No. I mean. I made her go."

"Luke, you didn't…"

"She's been killing herself with work. Won't stop except for coffee and junk food. Won't talk. I made her take the weekend off."

Rory's shoulders slumped in relief, only to be raised by his next comment.

"She proposed. I said no."

Softly, she added, "You hurt her."

"I can't. You guys have to." He sighed and tossed his rag on the counter in defeat. "Will you go talk to her?"

Rory studied Luke's features carefully. He looked completely worn out and defeated. He'd been the silent, stoic, diner man for so long, she'd forgotten that he was just as human as she. As much as she was lost, she couldn't bring herself to disappoint him too.

The weight lifted from him as she slowly nodded her affirmation.

"So I remember you once saying something about living an aesthetic life, but don't you think this is taking things to an extreme?"

A muffled yelp of surprise followed by a soggy splash was enough to set her current level of amusement to red alert.

As the drenched creature emerged sputtering and cursing from the murky depths, she attempted another tactic. "Hey Mom! How's it going?"

Long strands of seaweed mixed with curly black hair were pushed aside. "Rory?" the creature gasped.

Helpfully she held up a towel. "You want?"

The creature looked askance once again, but began to slog through the water. As she waited, Rory pondered the similarities: The Creature from the Black Lagoon, or…

"Rory." The question had left Lorelai's voice and was now replaced by a wary sort of acceptance.

"Hey Mom." Suddenly, she felt all of twelve again, facing down the Gilmore's elder, also known as Grandma and Grandpa. She offered up the promised towel, which was grabbed and put to use with amazing speed.

As she wrung the droplets from her hair, Lorelai finally regained her ability to put thoughts into words, into words put together, into actual sentences. "What are you doing here?"

The witty retort had flown from her tongue without thought or restraint. "Fishing." The flash of Gilmore wit forged a tentative link, so she added, "I could ask the same of you."

"Luke. Vacation. Me. Here." Damn, the words putting together ability had vanished once again. Waving the towel wildly at her daughter, she gasped, "Wait!"

"Mom? Do you see me going anywhere?"

"Well, I thought you might flee at this disgusting display of verbacity I'm employing."

"Verbacity?"

"You just dumped me in a lake kid. You're lucky I'm not uselessly floundering in the water, begging for someone to come save me."

"I dumped you?"

"Hey, watch it," she warned, using her currently drenched state to underwrite her statement. And then the moment died and they both felt their recent estrangement rise to the surface once again. Taking a step towards the cabin, Lorelai nodded. "You wanna."

"Sure," returned Rory a little too eagerly and followed her mother up the worn path.

Later on, after Lorelai was suitably dried and attired, they sat across from each other at the table and stared into the mysterious recesses of their coffee cups. Rory was the first to relent.

"Mom. I kinda. I wanted to talk."

"So talk." She winced at the abruptness of her tone, but didn't take it back. After all these weeks of being pushed aside by her daughter, she wasn't sure she wanted to forgive and forget all. Even for Rory.

The chair squeaked as it was pushed back, and Rory moved to stand. "I shouldn't have come here."

Lorelai raised a brow. "I'm still trying to figure out how you came here, why you came here."

"Luke."

"Oh."

They both stared at each other as the old wooden clock ticked out the passing seconds. Finally, tired of the impasse and feeling ridiculous standing while her mother sat, Rory returned to her seat. "I really do want to talk."

She barely heard the meek reply.

"Okay. I'd, I'd like that too."

"Mom, god, why are things so weird between us? It never used to be like this!"

"We're growing up. I guess it happens now and then kid." The expression on Lorelai's face was virtually unreadable to Rory.

"But I don't want it to!" The petulance of her tone reinforced her cry.

Lorelai's mouth twitched. Rory began to open her mouth in defense and then saw the twinkle spreading through her mother's eyes. Her own words registered in her ears and she paused, then snorted. And that's when the laughter consumed them. That's when the walls began to truly crumble.

Stretching out in tandem hammocks, Rory tipped her sunglasses back and glanced at her compatriot in crime. "So, nature, huh?"

Lorelai sipped a frosty iced cap she'd bought at the little camp store just down the road from Luke's cabin. A cabin that twenty years before had been sold and described as 'rustic' in a 'remote' setting, and now was dwarfed by the designer log homes and personal watercraft. "You know what they say…"

A brow was creased in return.

"Neither do I."

The years passed in typical Gilmore style. They grew a little, grew a little apart, grew a lot closer, grew up, grew into new roles and new lives.

Rory eventually headed back to Yale and all things academically minded. Having once been the girl who thrilled at the scent of a library book (A point Lorelai was often fond of making in mixed company), it was a choice that seemed almost inevitable. She refocused her goals, sought out help and advice from people without other agendas, and began to create the life she envisioned for herself.

Travelling, international, television correspondent?

Maybe not.

Travelling, international journalist?

Maybe so.

And Lorelai? Well, she learned to hold her tongue. Learned to deal with her daughter's choices in ways that didn't involve running away or running scared.

She proposed again to Luke, and to both of their relief, he said yes. And when he finally slipped that golden ring around her finger, she proudly declared that she had given up the title as the reigning Lorelai Gilmore. The weight of the crown was giving her headaches.

The crazy town continued in its craziness; always inventing new ways to annoy and delight with each passing season. Taylor threatened Luke with a restraining order. Luke counter-sued and won. Kirk had at least one more twilight escapade; streaking naked through the streets with a train of blue and pink ribbons on the eve of Luke and Lorelai's wedding. They shrugged it off as a good omen, and vowed to permanently Ajax the image of Kirk's…chest from their minds as soon as humanly possible. Lane's band flourished, then floundered, finally sending her on a journey to New York to seek her bliss. Her mother chose to follow in the hopes of moderating the evil influences of the big city. Miss Patty continued to flirt and smoke and teach, and Babette, well, she continued to tend her gnomes and the rumor mill even as Morey's presence in the town diminished to that of non-existence. Life, as they say, went on.

Until it didn't.

Until one day Rory sidled up to Lorelai at her usual counter-side post in Luke's and nudged her with a bony elbow. "Hey Mom?"

"Yes Piglet?"

"What?"

"You know because you sidled, and then…" her voice trailed off as she lost her train of thought. "Yes?"

A golden smile from her golden child.

"You got it, didn't you?"

The Cheshire smile.

"Oh Babe! I'm so proud of you! Details! I want details! Tell me all about the job, my little fledgling journalist!"

"Well, the good news is that I'll be working at the heart of all the politics and nation building and democracy spreading and…"

The glow of pride faded as reality set in. "And you're leaving."

Endings are never truly final. Life goes on. Good things, bad things, all things must come to an end.

And so too, must this.


The End