A/N: Hello readers, how are you on this fine, fine evening? I am quite grand, seeing as I'm writing a new story. And it's a Literati, too! I've got a couple junking up my hardrive, but none of 'em are publishable yet except for this baby. Plus I really wanted to see any reactions. Are people even reading Rory/Jess fanfiction anymore? I mean, the series ended (badly, except for Rory breaking up with Logan) a few years ago, and it was like two years before that that Jess was last on Gilmore Girls. For one episode. Urgh. Anyways, if anyone IS reading this, please know that I love and adore you.
"Hello, is R—Lorelai Gilmore here, please?"
Lorelai tapped frantically on the counter as the greeting woman, whose painfully slow chicken-typing was grating increasingly on her frayed nerves, searched the database, presumably. She was probably just closing all of her porn, Lorelai thought frenetically, and didn't even know where Rory was, or the receptionist was involved in some inter-department conspiracy to ruin her life because she never donated enough money to the hospital, or...
"We don't have a Lorelai Gilmore here," the insufferable woman drawled, taking a break from smacking her gum to gaze lazily up at Lorelai. "Are you sure you're in the right place?" She smiled with just a hint of condescension.
So not the time for this, bitchhoskank. Lorelai could feel a tension headache coming on. "Um, okay, can you try Rory Gilmore, then?" The receptionist, Mary something, had the nerve to stare at Lorelai for several moments, as if checking to see that she wasn't going to say, "Nah, just kidding, you go back to IMing your friends, it's cool."
Mary something had apparently decided that Lorelai was, in fact, legitimately looking for someone, and with a long suffering sigh she went back to clacking away on her keyboard. After a moment full of Lorelai praying to all the Gods she'd heard of, the woman pursed her lips and looked up. "Room 348, third floor, Candace Parsons corridor. If you can't find it, there's--"
"Right, thanks," Lorelai muttered quickly as she dashed away, determined to catch that almost-closed elevator. "Hold the door! Hold the door, dammit!"
Rory wasn't panicking. She really, really wasn't. She was okay. She could definitely do this. The facts that her sides really hurt, her feet were surely numb by now, her hair was a mess, and that nobody was here, well, they were all things she was taking in stride. That is, she would, if she could move more than a few inches side to side without feeling agonizing pain.
She was going to kill Daisy. Or Kirk. One or the other.
The room was beginning to give her a headache. There was a glare from the windows, and why, why, were the curtains open anyways? This was not a room she wanted people to be looking in on at any time of the day; the fact that she was on the third floor of a building with no other major buildings near where sight into her room would be easily accessible was not a factor. She wanted the blinds drawn.
And she craved coffee worse than any coffee-delirium she'd had during college, or high school, or any time in her life, ever. She closed her eyes and pictured a delicious, steaming cup of Luke's finest brew right in her hands, too hot to drink, but she'd try it anyways, and it would burn her tongue like always, but she didn't mind because the first sip was the best when it was scalding. Everyone knew that.
She opened her eyes. The room was still the same: bright, overly-cheery wallpaper and a TV in the corner, which was currently playing what appeared to be a rerun of Dharma and Greg (she'd had the nurse mute the sound); several uncomfortable-looking chairs scattered about; a small, lumpy bed-couch thing on the wall directly opposite that of her own bed; and her overnight bag which she had thankfully remembered to grab before the panic set in and she ran out for a cab, screaming and wearing only one sock with her tennis shoes.
Okay. Deep breath. And now the room was looking suspiciously better. Did the hospital drug its oxygen to make the rooms seem more cheery? Interesting premise for a story. She could interview her RN, the receptionist, a couple interns...
"Ms. Gilmore?" Speaking of RN's, the kind, portly nurse had poked her head through the door. "You have a visitor, should I send them in?"
"Oh, yes, please!" Thank God. Please let it be--
Immediately, Lorelai rushed into the room, and the nurse smiled and gently shut the door, not that either Gilmore noticed. "Mom, thank God you're here!" Rory was pretty sure she was crying now, either that or laughing (one or the other, close enough) and tried to sit up to hug her mother, but could only manage to recline further on the downy pillows. Undaunted in her exuberance and relief, Lorelai swooped down on her daughter and administered her patented Lorelai Gilmore Hug-o'-Love, designed to make the hug-ee feel better immediately. Rory pathetically squeezed back, but relaxed into her mom's arms.
"Rory, honey, I'm so glad to see you," Lorelai sighed, pulling back and surveying her daughter with a slight smile. "Are you okay, kid? You seem a bit woozy."
Rory shook her head. "No, not woozy, just overwhelmed. I can't believe I'm here, doing... this."
"I know."
"I mean, I never ever thought I'd be doing this, ever! And I'm so young, only twenty-eight. Do you think I should've waited until I was at least thirty and in a stable career? Oh my God, what if I lose my job with the Post over this, huh? They're gonna fire me, and then I'll be all alone in New York, with no job and no future and--"
"They're not going to fire you," Lorelai soothed, smiling. "And you wouldn't be alone Rory, you know that."
"Oh yeah?" Rory pressed on, growing more and more panicked by the second. "And where is he now, mom? I don't think he's here. And I can't talk to him because we only have one cell phone, and I have it. I can't--"
"Rory, honey, calm down! He's on his way, I called Truncheon, they said he left right after he found out. Smart thinking, sending him an email while you were in the cab. And I'm sure he's driving as fast as he can to get here, you know he'll be running through those doors any second--"
"--And I didn't even see him today! He's probably dead on the side of the road, and I didn't see him today because he had to get up and go to work early because of all the time he's taking off and he's getting a new editor, this fancy guy from Maine and the only time they could meet was today at eight, but I didn't want to drag my lazy ass out of bed and say goodbye and-- my kid is not going to have a father!" Rory was growing increasingly scared and frantic, something that Lorelai was definitely not used to.
"That's better than having its actual father," Lorelai joked weakly, more than a little nonplussed at her daughter's behavior. Not that she could blame her, of course. Labor was a scary, scary thing, and doing it alone sucked. She knew that for sure.
Her daughter rolled her eyes, relaxing back into her pillows. "Stop, you love Jess."
"Yes, I do," Lorelai crooned, relieved that her distraction seemed to work, "and you and he are both going to be amazing parents when this little guy arrives."
"We don't know the gender," Rory reminded her. "It's a surprise."
"I know, I just need something to call it," her mother explained, pulling up a chair.
"How about Daisy?" Rory suggested, downing an ice chip from her bedside table. "That's what I've been calling it."
"And that's better than 'little guy' how?" Lorelai asked wryly.
Rory frowned. "Hey, I'm the pregnant one here! Humor me."
"Right, sorry."
There was a pause as both women got lost in their own thoughts. Rory was trying to calm herself down, breathing slowly and objectively looking at the situation. She was in the early stages of labor, and Jess wasn't here. Granted, he was on his way, no doubt driving like a maniac to get here, but Saturday morning traffic in New York City was atrocious, regardless of how disregardless one was of traffic laws. Still, Lorelai was here at least.
"Hey mom?"
Lorelai glanced at Rory, who was reclining even more now, leaned back all the way with her eyes closed. "What's up, kiddo?"
"Could you tell me a story? Any story. Please," Rory yawned.
Lorelai stared at her daughter's wispy eyelashes for a moment, then smiled and got herself as comfortable as possible on her chair. "Sure, hon. Let's see..."
Chapter Two Teaser:
"Do you have the charger?" she asked, glancing down at his empty hands. "Because what if the phone runs out of battery before I can tell her?" They were in the middle of the bed, blankets thrown around them haphazardly, huddled together in the cold of March.
"Your phone has full battery," he said disbelievingly. "How on Earth could you use the whole thing just by calling your mom once?"
She shot him a very annoyed look. "This is a different kind of phone call," she explained stubbornly. "And you know my mom, she'll be excited the first moment then crying the next. It could go on for hours."
A/N: Review, huh? If you do, I'll.... write quicker! Send you an autographed picture of Milo (yum)! Love you forever!