A/N: hello hello hello everyone! Wow, I'm sorry this is so quick after the death of my joint fic and I know I have a few people desperate for my thankstaking with an impressive wingspan story, but this is in my head right now and I had to write it. It's a totally different style to what I am used to so bear with me. Tell me if you love it, like it, hate it, loathe it, suggestions for plot, character or general development – I'll take everything into consideration. I have a basic idea of a plot and the suitor for rory is a huge secret. It an UC story – slightly AU as in its in the future. After you read this chapter if you have any questions -  I'll be giving more background information in next chapters a/n. so… read this – enjoy, hopefully – I'll be writing again soon. I have big plans for this one so just sit back and relax.

Chapter One

I have a date tonight.

Rory smiled to herself.

I have a date tonight with a handsome, intelligent, nice-smelling, well-mannered, average build doctor with a full head of hair.

Rory took a deep breath.

I have a date tonight with a handsome, intelligent, nice-smelling, well-mannered, average build doctor with a full head of hair who lane, my mother and my grandmother all agree is a pretty good catch.

She scrunched up her head and thudded it against the wall.

So, again, why am I hiding in the cupboard?

Take a step back.

We see a fully grown twenty-eight year old woman, Lorelai Leigh Dugrey – known as Rory Gilmore to her fans, curled up in the fetal position under a pile of winter coats.

Dressed to the nines – or 7.30's, depending on exactly how one wishes to look at the situation – in a blood red cocktail dress, a face painted to perfection and hair that, before flattened by the weight of five thick jackets, was pinned into a chic chignon that would make any model this side of the universe pistachio with envy (Her mother always noted that models never had enough emotions in them to produce a primary colour). So why was this woman hibernating as opposed to dating? Why, indeed?

After hearing the knocking on her door die down and the sound of steps retreating down the stairs from her apartment, Rory pushed the coats off her head and sat up slowly. She took a suspicious glance at the line of light showing through the wardrobe doors and, again, took a deep breath. She rested against the back wall and closed her eyes in relief, before sitting up and taking the thousand little brown pins out of her hair before she received puncture wounds. She twisted her body around and attempted to remove her burgundy stiletto heels – but as always just couldn't seem to get the hang of the tiny silver buckle holding the spaghetti straps together to resemble a shoe.

She pulled on the lace fiercly, managing to break the buckle and - from the inertia - catapult her through the wardrobe doors, along with her entire winter wardrobe.

She lay splayed out on her luxurious, white, shag-pile carpet and sighed once more. Sitting up slightly, she winced and rubbed her elbow muttering curses under her breath. Upon her mahogany bedside table her miniscule silver cell-phone began to shiver.

Midway rising from the pile of clothes on the floor, she froze and began to ponder the likelihood of her phone actually hearing her speaking and moving. Then, in order to torture her for being a pathetic waste a human being, the phone made sure somebody called her to catch her red-handed in a prickly pickle that seemed to repeat itself each weekend.

The vibrations from the phone became harsher and longer, almost insisting on a response.

Rory denied it.

She stood up and brushed imaginary lint from her dress before tipping up her hcin and glaring defiantly at the shaking object that seemed to bleat at her. She took precise, purposeful steps to the table where she took the offending object and redirected the number to her voicemail and listened to a voice respond to her message:

'uh…hey, rory? Um, this is Geoffery. I work with Dr.Kim? We were supposed to meet up for a date tonight, remember? Well, I –uh- came by your place at 7.30 to pick you up…and I probably got the night wrong or something, but you weren't there. So, uh, call me and we can sort things out – maybe set up another night? My direct number is 564-2598. Thanks. Uh.. Bye.'

Rory rolled her eyes, 'they could at least try and sound as suave as they're supposed to be when they leave messages' she thought.

She quickly changed into her pink cheesecake flannel pajamas and tied her hair into a topknot before padding out of her room and into her tiny kitchenette. Grabbing a bowl and spoon, she pushed a frozen desert into her microwave and punched out some familiar numbers into the phone she then cradled between her shoulder and ear.

A sleepy voice resonated in her ear, "What."

She smirked, "well, well, well, aren't we a morning person?"

The grouch on the receiving line grunted and Rory heard them shifting around in their bed, before grinning mischievously, "tell me you weren't planning a lie-in today, monsieur?"

"Rory, you know fully well that I never get up this early, what on god –or whatever's- green earth do you want now?" he moaned.

She pouted, putting on a baby-voice especially reserved to tackle his mood swings, "aw come on jess, I just wanted to tell you about my date!"

"You actually went out on a date, tonight?" he sounded genuinely shocked.

"Well, I organized a date!"

"Rory…did you leave the building?"

"No…"

"Did you let him into the apartment?"

"No…"

"Did you hide in your room again?"

"Technically, no."

"Hiding in your closet doesn't count."

She curled her upper lip in frustration and adjusted so she held the phone in her hand, "fine! So maybe I didn't even see this guys face," he began to speak but she kept speaking, "BUT c'mon surely I deserve a break! I've been on 27 blind dates this past year and its only MAY!"

She heard him sigh, "Have you given any of them a chance, Ror?"

"Of course I," she paused, "Is your voice muffled or am I going deaf?"

"I'm trying to smother myself with my cushion."

"Good for you."

"Well, I try to have a purpose," he drawled.

She smiled and bobbed her head, "it's always a good thing!"

"Continue, Gilmore – stop dodging."

"So says the artful one himself," she muttered

He sighed, "I'm hanging up!"

"Okay, okay!" she cried, "You know, all that sighing can be bad for your respiratory system!"

The dial tone filled her ears.

She looked at the phone with narrowed eyes, "mean."

Dialing the number again she prepared herself for a rant,

He answered on the second ring, "you took more than 3 seconds this time."

"I didn't realize you'd been timing me, Mr. big-shot!"

"Well, it gets boring here."

"Oh I'm sure, Paris is terrible for lively-hood this time of year, " she rolled her eyes.

"Enough," he paused, "so, you wimped out on another date. Why? You're not still hankering for that jerk-off you married, are you?"

"God no, he cheated on me! Give me a little credit, would you?"

"hey, you're the one who married him in the first place," he stated."

"Yeah, big whoop, shut up."

"So how come you keep chickening out?" he asked, stressing the last words.

She made numerous frustrated sounds before replying, "Wouldn't you?"

"You may have to be reminded, but I'm actually IN a happy marriage. Paris the person is a hell of a lot more enticing that then city itself!"

"details, details…"she scowled.

"Well, since you asked – the other night she and I tried this new –"

She held the phone away from her ear, shouting, "EW! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

When she put the earpiece back she heard him laughing, "so, why'd you hide out this time?"

"I didn't want another meaningless deadbeat night where I wished I had stayed home and had an evening I can use," she said, looking tenderly at the plate in front of her.

"and how are you going to find this 'one' you've been looking for if you aren't willing to venture out into the big wide world, little Rory Gilmore?"

"I venture out! I venture out all the time! Didn't you see my last piece on New Caledonia?" she exclaimed indignantly.

He let out another of his grunts, "You know what I mean!"

She put rested her forehead against the counter, mumbling "I guess I just don't want to get hurt again… I want somebody who I can relax with, who I can have fun with, someone who wants me for who I am, someone who wants me – period. I want someone…"

"Like the Easter bunny? Cos it's about as likely to find somebody that perfect for you," he said.

"Well, you found Paris, and you're the ultimate troubled person!"

"Well, then I guess there's hope for you," he said, she could hear the smirk in his voice

She growled, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Seriously, ror – there's somebody out there for you. Somebody perfect. You may meet him tomorrow, next week, next year – you may have met him before… but you don't know until you open yourself up."

"Thanks for your advice, love professor."

"Anytime. I'm going to go back to my lie–in now; you go back to your chocolate mousse."

"How did you…?

He laughed, "Lucky guess."

She smiled contently as she hung up the phone.

Take a step back.

We see this woman, this beautiful woman – still with all her made up glory – sitting at her tiny kitchen eating chocolate as if her life depended on it. Does her life depend on it? Is it through these tiny guilty pleasures that she gets any pleasure at all?  We've learned she is waiting for something. Something special. Something perfect. She seemed to have it all – the looks, the beautiful apartment, the caring friend – but she now remains alone in her apartment, her large apartment with its classy white walls and dark furniture. Surely she has everything. But waiting for something? Waiting for someone. Well, maybe that someone will come along…like her friend said. Or maybe that person is already there, just waiting in the wings… We'll have to wait and see.