Disclaimer: Own nothing. Nada. Just borrowing.

A/N: This is a repost under a different title and name, edited and to be completed. Previously "Can't Wait No Longer".

CHAPTER ONE:

Rory glanced up from her book at the sound of knocking on the other side of her bedroom door.

"Rory? Are you awake? Can I come in?"

Martha. Furrowing her brows in confusion, Rory looked sideways at the digital clock by her bed, which read 9:40pm. Martha wasn't due home for another two hours.

"Um, yeah, sure, come in." Rory answered uncertainly as she placed her book to the side.

Martha slowly poked her head through the door, still in her business suit from work before making her way to the foot of the bed, where she stood apprehensively.

"Oh, um, here, sit down." Rory hastily grabbed her books, folders and other school items from the end of the bed and placed them on the ground beside her as she sat cross-legged, facing Martha, who was constantly fidgeting as she sat, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit in.

"You bought a new bedside lamp," Martha stated as she pointed towards the purple lamp by Rory's bed.

"Oh, yeah…I, uh, just bought it last month," Rory cautiously answered.

"Nice," Martha whispered, almost to herself.

Several moments of awkward, tense silence reigned before she spoke again.

"I spoke to Dr. Simmons today," Martha unfolded her arms and carefully placed her hands in her lap.

"Oh?" Rory quietly questioned, finding a sudden interest in the pattern on her bedspread.

"He said you weren't interested in many of the treatments for your leukemia."

Rory tensed at the word 'leukemia', and began tracing the outline of the patterns with her finger.

Oblivious to Rory's discomfort, Martha continued. "He said he gave you a couple of choices…chemotherapy, radiation therapy…" she paused briefly before starting again. "Rory, this isn't a simple flu or cold. You have to understand that. You can't just take some aspirin, or wait for the sickness to wear itself out after a couple of days."

"I know that." Rory croaked out weakly. She cleared her throat, trying to find her voice as she looked up at Martha. "Two weeks ago, I was told I had leukemia…that I was dying, and that going through with all this treatment would only extend my time, but making me sicker in the process. I'd rather not have that extra time if from now on I spend most of my time having treatment and getting sick because of it. I'd rather…I'd rather just enjoy it."

Rory took a shaky breath in as she looked back down at the bedspread, trying to fight her tears.

"Very well then." Martha sighed. She knew it wasn't her place to tell Rory what to do, and she knew that Rory still had not known her long enough to accept any of her judgments. "I still have some numbers Dr. Simmons gave me today in case you change your mind. And he would like to see you sometime soon."

Martha pulled out a piece of paper from her handbag and handed it to Rory, who accepted it silently.

Martha slowly stood up, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her skirt. "Well, I better leave you now to get some sleep, it's getting late."

Rory offered her a weak smile in return as Martha walked out of the room. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced over the things on the page before inserting the paper into her book and placing it beside her bed. She paused for a moment in contemplation before running to the top of the stairs.

"Martha?" she called cautiously to Martha, who looked up from her place at the foot of the stairs.

"G-goodnight." Rory stuttered clumsily.

Martha's mouth straightened into a tight line as she looked at Rory for a moment before walking down the hallway on the bottom floor.

Sighing wistfully, Rory took a step back and headed back towards her elaborately decorated bedroom.

"So…two hours early, huh?" Liz inquired, walking along her best friend as they made their way to Chilton.

"Yeah," Rory answered as she shifted her backpack on her shoulders.

"And a decent conversation, too?"

"Yup."

"Whoa."

"You're telling me."

"You know, Rory, she really does care about you."

"Yeah, great way of showing it." Rory kicked a pebble on the footpath in front of her.

Liz stopped in her tracks to turn to Rory exasperatingly. She was well aware that it could turn ugly, and she chose her words carefully. "Rory, I'm not just saying this because all this stuff that has been happening with you for the past two weeks, but you really need to give Martha a chance to be a mother-like figure to you. It isn't going to work otherwise."

Rory shook her head helplessly, staring at her feet. "I do, Liz! What would you call last night, when I even went to the extreme of saying 'goodnight' to her? She didn't even answer me. She couldn't answer something as simple as 'goodnight'."

"Rory, you don't even call her mum." Liz firmly but gently pointed out.

Rory started walking again, with Liz in tow beside her. "Well, I'm sorry if I can't go into some stranger's house and wave and say, 'Hi, mum, dad, my name is Rory, and I'm going to be your daughter from now on. Oh, I'm sorry; apparently I don't have a dad because you're widowed. Well, that's fine then, we can still make our own Brady Bunch with the maids and cooks.'"

"No-one's asking you to form a Brady Bunch." Liz tried to laugh off the tension. "I'm just saying that you're sixteen, you need a mum, no matter how much you try to deny it. I know you, Rory, and I know that even though you're one of the most independent people I have ever met, there is still that part of you that is yearning for a mother figure."

Rory looked down at her feet as they continued walking but said nothing. She knew Liz was right; they both knew.

Liz broke the silence ten minutes later as they approached their lockers. "So, who've you got first period?"

"Um…Medina." Rory replied as she swung open her locker.

Liz sighed. "Well, I guess I won't see you till recess then. Meet you at the usual place?"

Rory managed a weak smile for her friend as she slammed her locker door shut. "Yeah. Meet you there."

Rory shifted in her seat, unable to concentrate. In the back of her mind she could vaguely hear Mr. Medina's voice talking about the satire used in books. She shook her head, trying to refocus; but Liz's words kept any successes in focusing short-lived.

"There is still that part of you that is yearning for a mother figure."

A mother figure.

From what Rory had seen throughout her life amidst five different families, a mother-or father-was just someone who gave you a room, their surname and had enough money to send you to the best schools in the state; the schooling sector as requested by her biological family, she suspected.

But as a result of that request she had been taken from family to family all her life; she was taken away after just a couple of years because they did not have enough money to send her to the next stage of her schooling, or they did not live close enough to the high school, or elementary school, and vice versa.

Of course, in other cases there were other reasons besides schooling; but she kept those reasons to herself. She was not willing to neither share any of the facts nor relive them. Not even Liz knew what had happened with those families, and she had given up asking about them a long time ago.

Rory now lived with Martha Haylesbury in the rich suburbs of Hartford, near Chilton; this had been so for the last two years, since she had started attending Chilton.

When Rory met Liz and her family upon her arrival into Chilton, Liz's parents had brought up the fact that the agency should have been able to find a better home for Rory to live in; a home with two parents rather than one, and maybe even some other children, to give it a more family-like notion.

To an extent Rory had agreed with them, but while she admitted it did not set up the most picturesque life for her, she did not mind the peace and quiet of the large house. Over the years Rory had grown to depend on herself and not on anyone else; Martha being out of town for most of the time and leaving her with the cooks and maids of the house had never really affected her. It gave her a chance to take care of herself, as she was more than capable of doing, especially for a sixteen year old.

But two weeks ago, the world Rory had developed for herself had come crashing down around her.

She was diagnosed with leukemia, and she was dying.

"Rory?" Rory jerked her head up, startled, as a piece of paper was waved in front of her. "Ah, good to see you're still with us. Here's your paper."

"Sorry Mr. Medina." Rory felt her cheeks flush as she sheepishly took the paper out of his hand.

She glanced over the paper confusedly before relaxing in recognition as she realized it to be an essay she had handed in a couple of weeks before. She smiled at the A+ visible at the top of her page.

Scanning her eyes across the top of her page, she rested her gaze on her name, written in neat cursive: Rory Haylesbury.

Many people found it weird that she had to change her name every once in a while, according to the family she was living in. At first, when she was old enough to understand what was going on, she had wanted to take her biological surname. But no-one had ever told her the surname, and she knew she was still too young back then to ask the agency any information about her real family.

So, as fake as it may sound both to her and the people around her, here she was: Lorelai Leigh Haylesbury. But Rory didn't like to add her full name to any surname given to her. It was the one thing that belonged to her real self rather than the family she was living with at that point in time.

"Rory!"

Rory looked up from her book and smiled at Liz from the shade of the oak tree as she ran up the grassy hill towards her.

"Hey," she greeted as Liz dumped herself heavily beside Rory. "I saw you talking to Dave down there."

"Yeah." Liz smiled mysteriously.

"So…?" Rory grinned.

"So, what?" Liz hid her smile as she poked absently at the grass.

"Well tell me! What did he say?" Rory prodded.

"Nothing. He just wanted to give me back my notes from science." Liz shrugged teasingly at Rory.

Rory groaned frustratingly.

Liz giggled as she raised her eyebrows at Rory. "What, so I now serve as your personal soapy entertainment show?"

"Of course." Rory replied breezily.

"Fine, you win. Next time I will guarantee undying love, bloodshed and a riot or two," Liz muttered as she leant back on her elbows and looked up at the sky, her eyes squinting in the sun.

"I'm holding you onto that one, Juliet," Rory smirked as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a moment or two before Rory quietly spoke quietly.

"Liz?"

"Hmm?" Liz turned her head to face Rory as a gesture to show her full attention.

"I thought about what you said today, and…I think you're right."

"So…what does that mean? You're going to give her a chance?"

Rory took a deep breath in and hesitated for a second before answering. "I want to meet my birth-mother."

Liz almost choked on her apple. "What!"

"I want to meet my birth-mother." Rory answered, with more courage. "I mean, I know it doesn't mean I'm going to have a mother figure, but I need the closure and satisfaction that there is someone out there who…I don't know, is my real family."

"Rory, listen to me here." Liz put her apple down and sat up. "Do you have any idea how big this decision is? It's not something you decide just like that! I mean, what will Martha think of this! And how are you certain that you'll even find her?"

"Martha shouldn't have a problem with it, I know she won't. And the agency has all the information I need; I just need to ask them. I can use a mix of circumstance and sweet talk to get at least some information out of them" Rory replied absently.

Liz looked down and shuffled in discomfort as she spoke softer. "And Rory, the last thing I want to do right now is bring this up, but…you're sick, Rory. You're sick." She looked Rory in the eye. "I mean, this woman, wherever she is, is about to meet her long-lost daughter, only to find out that her daughter is dying. You can't do that to her. It's not fair, Rory."

"She doesn't have to know." Rory quietly answered. "I only want to see her, just once. Just to see what she's like, who she is, just…meet her. That's all. I mean, all my life, I've wondered about this woman. And now, this is my last chance to meet her. It's now or never. She doesn't have to know anything about it."

"But what if she meets you, and decides she wants more than that? What then?"

"Liz, as far as I know, she is probably married with kids, and has her own life. I'm sure she'll be pretty happy to let me go my own way after that one meeting."

"But what if she's not! How do you know all this, Rory! You need to think this through!" Liz answered, frustrated.

"I have thought this through Liz: and I want to meet my mother."

Liz sighed. She knew too well that Rory wouldn't give up so easily. "Alright then. I just hope you know what you're doing Rory."

Rory nodded distractedly as she pulled her knees up to her chin.

"So do I, Liz." She whispered. "So do I."

You know the drill…pat the pretty button.

-BoundChrysalis