Gilmore Girls is the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino and Warner Bros. Television. This work is intended strictly for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.

AN: So, I'm sure that I can't be the only one who had a few "What?" moments when watching the revival and questioned why the show was retreading some of the same ground already covered in seasons 6 & 7. Several of you know that I'm a fan of the season-six-fixing-fics, so now I feel a "fix" is needed for the revival. If you're looking for a continuation of AYITL, turn back now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Late summer 2016

"Mom?" Rory's voice hesitantly sounded at her side.

"Yeah?" Lorelai responded while still looking out over the town square.

"I'm pregnant."

Lorelai turned to her daughter in open-mouthed shock, but before she could say a word, a shrill alarm sounded. She let out a loud scream and closed her eyes as if it could shut out the ear-piercing noise. She felt as if she were hyperventilating. She'd never had a panic attack, but she recalled vividly that long, long summer that she'd heard about them in excruciating detail from Paris when she'd been on the outs with her daughter. Was this what it felt like? Or was this worse? Was she having a heart attack like her father? Didn't those kind of things have a genetic link? She'd have to remember to ask Paris the next time she talked to her.

"Mom," she heard a pleading voice call, followed by a gruffer tone saying her name through the din of the alarm.

"Lorelai!" the stern voice sounded again and the jarring noise was blissfully cut off.

Lorelai cautiously opened one eye while she tried to get her ragged breathing back to normal. She let out a sigh of relief at finding herself in her own bed, Luke staring down at her with a look of concern etched on his face.

"Another nightmare?" he questioned as he reached for her hand.

She sat up and looked around the room, and then down at their entwined hands, the matching platinum wedding bands catching the light of the early morning sunshine that streamed in through the windows. She looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah, this one was a doozy too. Like Pam Ewing."

"That bad?"

"Yeah, Rory was all wandering and aimless and stringing along this poor guy named...Peter...Pat...Parker..." She shook her head as she tried to recall the right name, just as Paul Anka jumped on the bed with a loud "feed me" bark. "Paul! That's it!"

"Paul? Got it." Luke nodded. He'd learned in their years together not to question Lorelai's random train of thought.

"Anyway, it was awful. Rory was stringing this guy along, but at the same time sleeping with Logan even knowing that he was engaged, as if she wouldn't have learned from my mistake when I did that with her father or when she was fooling around with Dean when he was married to Lindsay...Plus, she slept with Chewbacca."

"Chewbacca?" Luke stared at his wife blankly.

"Well, not actually Chewbacca, but some random guy she met at a comic-con-type thing that was dressed as a Wookie. I mean, I know I got around in my day, but one-night stands were never my thing and they've never been Rory's either. I mean, you saw first-hand how disastrous it was with her trying to keep things casual with Logan the first time around."

"Right." Luke nodded in acknowledgement. "Titanic disastrous."

"Except she didn't have that door to hang onto to keep from drowning in this dream."

"She didn't have you to be her door?" he probed gently.

Lorelai shook her head as tears stung her eyes. "She didn't even tell me about it. She lied to me whenever she was with Logan."

"Okay-ay." That didn't seem like Rory at all to him, especially since he recalled just how painful the lengthy separation had been between mother and daughter several years ago.

"But the worst part is that she didn't have a job or a place to live and it was like she was searching for herself...as if she didn't do that in college already that time she dropped out of Yale...Oh my God, I have to call her and make sure she's okay! Maybe this is a sign." As fresh tears stung her eyes, she reached for the phone with her free hand, but Luke stopped her with his other hand on hers.

"Lorelai, you don't need to call Rory. She's downstairs, alive and happy and not aimless. She's been writing for The New Yorker for the past three years. How many times have you heard me bitch about that Money Pit apartment she's got in Brooklyn with its cardboard floors and the walls that look like something out of The Amityville Horror?"

"What about Sookie and Michel?"

"What about them?" He blinked at her, not sure where this was going.

She frowned as she recalled the rest of her dream. "They both left me...or were going to leave me and I-" She'd dissolved into hysterical sobs as the visions of her dream weighed on her mind. "And you...you weren't happy...I made you unhappy because I was selfish and you thought I was going to leave you and I thought you were going to leave me." She took a deep, halting breath as she yanked her hands from his and wiped at her tear-streaked face. "Crap! Maybe it IS a sign! Luke, are you...are you happy...I mean, with me? There's nothing bugging you?"

"Of course I'm happy. Don't you think that after all we've been through that I'd tell you if something was bugging me? I mean, come on, Lorelai, isn't keeping things from each other what got us into trouble before? When we got back together, we both agreed that we owed each other nothing but honesty going forward."

She nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

Luke took her hands in his again and squeezed them reassuringly, "You've got to stop taking these nightmares so seriously. The only thing they're a sign of is that you're still grieving for your father. It's only been a few days and I think losing him has gotten into your head that everyone's going to leave you."

"MO-OM!" A loud voice called from downstairs. "We're gonna' be late!"

"The kid has a point," Luke reminded her as he brushed a stray curl from her face.

She shook her head and sniffed loudly. "I-I-I can't."

"Yes, you can," he assured her. "You have to. You're the strong one, remember? Your mother needs you, Rory needs you...and..." When Lorelai nodded forlornly, he continued, "We'll get through this as a family and maybe...just maybe...getting through your dad's funeral and putting him to rest will help put these nightmares to rest too." He knew all too well what she was going through. Losing his own father years ago had sent him into a downward spiral that would have led him to being a total recluse if it hadn't been for Liz and a newborn Jess needing him. He was hoping that if he could get Lorelai to see that she had people who still needed her too, it might help her in the same way.

"Yeah...maybe," Lorelai answered, but didn't sound convinced.

He lightly brushed a kiss to her lips. "Come on, I've got breakfast ready downstairs." He grinned at her, "And coffee."

Even the promise of her normal morning coffee did nothing to alleviate the torment her dream had caused her, but still she pulled herself out of bed and threw on her robe. She padded down the stairs behind her husband of nine years and as sorrowful as she felt, she couldn't help smiling at her family gathered for breakfast. She glanced from one to the other, thirty-one-year-old Rory looking somber, but yammering with twenty-three-year-old April about the latest books they'd read and eight-year-old Will with his nose stuck in a book. While the three of them couldn't be more different from one another, they all shared one thing; They had an innate love of learning just like their grandfather.

Will put down his book as she walked in and gave her a grin that sent a pain through her heart as it was so like Richard Gilmore's. "It's about time."

"Yeah," Rory chimed in. "We were about to send Taylor up there to start selling you on the benefits of the sewer system, like our own Willy Loman."

"Or ask you for your testimonial about septic tank disasters," April added. "Knowing him he'd want it in APA form."

Lorelai smiled as the two girls shared a conspiratorial look and a laugh, knowing that she didn't get it. The tears that had begun to form again subsided as she took her place at the table. She found herself grateful that her father had at least lived long enough to see April graduate from MIT. Her smile grew as she recalled just how proud he'd been of her and her accomplishment and how he'd listened intently at her plans for grad school.

She glanced at Rory and thought of her father's pride in her as well and how he'd kept a scrapbook of everything she'd ever written going all the way back to her days at Chilton and even had a framed copy of her first New Yorker article hanging on the wall in his study. There was no doubt that he'd been a proud grandfather.

She finally turned her gaze to her son, whose nose was now back in a worn copy of Adjustment Team, one of Luke's. She remembered how fondly her father had doted on his only grandson and had taught him an early love of books and how Luke had turned her father onto the collected works of Philip K. Dick. That was one thing the three men in her life could talk about.

As Luke set a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, she explained, "Hey, you know me, I always sleep through the snooze button at least three times. You're right though. We'd better hurry. Your grandmother doesn't like to be kept waiting." She took a sip of her coffee and decided that no matter what, just like Luke said, she was going to be the strong one for her family, she owed them that much.

"At least I didn't have to set fifteen alarms this time," Luke added as he placed a full plate of food in front of his wife. "You actually got up in plenty of time. In fact, maybe we should go over there early, just to see if your mom needs anything before the funeral."

"Yeah. Great idea, Hon." She took a deep breath, relieved that the horrible reality she'd dreamed of had all been a dream.