If there is one thing that she has learned in all of her years it is that life can't be spent in the rearview. Days like today make it difficult to heed her own advice. She sits on the couch, curled up under a blanket. She sips hot cocoa, as the snow blankets itself against her window. The first snow used to be her favorite time of the year. When she inhaled the cold, wet smell it was magical. She stares at the TV, but doesn't hear a word that is said. She is too busy reflecting on a darker time. A chapter that she doesn't read out loud. She pulls the remote control out from behind the couch cushion, and flips off the TV. She sits in silence, and finds herself being drawn deeper, and deeper into the darkness.


Winter 2008- She sits on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall. She curses the soul who has bestowed this virus upon her. She wears little more than a robe. Eventually she gathers up enough strength to vacate her position on the floor. She brushes her teeth, and exits the bathroom. She opens the door, and finds a familiar face standing in front of her. She furrows her brow.

"What are you doing here?"

"I felt compelled to do a wellness check when you didn't come by and berate me for coffee this morning. You didn't answer your phone, so I thought I would stop by, and make sure that you are still among the living," he informs her.

"Barely," she responds in a raspy voice.

"Can I make you breakfast?"

She pushes past him, and collapses onto the couch. "I'm not hungry."

"It must really be serious," he insists.

"Sookie so kindly passed along the stomach virus that her kids had."

"What can I do for you?"

"Periodically ensure that I haven't slipped into a coma, or drown in the toilet."

He shakes his head, and presses his lips to her forehead. "Do you want me to make you some coffee?"

"No."

"Call if you need anything."

For the next several days she continues to feel less than her best. On Friday she stops vomiting long enough to attend Friday night dinner. Though she, and Luke have mended fences, and recently began to rekindle their romantic feelings they both agree that it is not yet time to subject their delicate relationship to the scrutiny of Emily Gilmore. When she arrives the maid leads her inside, and takes her coat. She leads her into the parlor, where her mother is waiting her arrival. Lorelai takes a seat on the couch, and looks around the room.

"Where is dad?" She questions.

"He is out of town for an alumni function. I told you that last week."

"Right," she nods, realizing there is no buffer between them. She feels queasy just considering the thought of being alone with her mother.

"What are you drinking?"

"Just water."

"Just water?" Emily responds with an arched eyebrow.

"I am recovering from a stomach bug. I am taking it slow. I have successfully managed to keep down water, and a cup of jello."

Emily hands Lorelai a glass of water. Instead of crossing the room, to sit on the couch opposite to her daughter, she takes a seat next to her. Lorelai subtly inches away a minute distance. Emily studies Lorelai's facial expression, and body language. Lorelai is astounded by Emily's next move.

"You look a little piqued. Are you sure you are feeling up to dinner?" Emily responds genuinely.

"I'm not really that hungry."

"You don't have to stay if you aren't feeling well."

"I'm okay," Lorelai reassures her.

"Are you sure?" Emily notes the dark circles under her eyes, "You don't look well, at all."

"Do you have something pressing to do?" Lorelai questions.

"No. I am just concerned about your health."

Lorelai breaks eye contact, and tries to process her mother's sudden concern. Her glance falls on a bowl of fruit sitting on the coffee table. There is a variety of fruit in the decorative bowl. She finds herself salivating. Her attention is diverted when she feels pressure on her leg. She turns towards her mother, and finds Emily's hand against her leg.

"Are you alright?"

"Since when do you put fruit out?" Lorelai responds.

"Someone sent it to us as a gift. I thought I would show appreciation by displaying it appropriately."

"Have you had a stroke?" Lorelai wonders.

Emily furrows her brow, "I don't think so."

"You are just not yourself tonight," Lorelai remarks.

"I am not the only one," Emily quips.

"Obviously, we are both a little off tonight."

"Do you want some fruit? Is that why you are asking?"

"Apples," she mumbles.

"Apples?" Emily responds. Before Lorelai can prevent it Emily's head is pressed against her forehead. Lorelai pushes her hand away. "What are you doing?"

"I am checking to see if you are fevered. I think that you're delirious."

"I am fine. Just ignore me."

"You know Vita made ambrosia for dessert. We could always start with dessert, if you think that you could tolerate it."

"What would the opposite of Invasion of the body snatchers be?" Lorelai answers.

Emily shakes her head, "I have not been replaced by someone else. You obviously are not feeling well."

"You typically are not this concerned," Lorelai points out.

"Apples," Emily answers.

"What is going on, here? I feel like I am in the Twilight Zone."

"Déjà vu," Emily replies.

Lorelai takes a moment to process what is going on. She furrows her brow trying to figure out why her mother is showing concern. The paradigm shift is making her feel disoriented. She wonders if it is simply because she is sick.

"What do you mean?" Lorelai tries to read her mother's facial expression.

"Are you pregnant?" Emily asks, bluntly.