Title: Out to Sea

Summary: Title sucks. Oh well. Rory gets sick and has an interesting story-dream.

Rating: Right now the rating is G, but might go up…

Spoilers: Uh…minor for "They Shoot Gilmores, Don't They?", but after that it goes AU-dream-sequence-y stuff.

Author's Note: This is really all Kantayra's fault. If she hadn't written "Skull and Crossbones" I never would have gotten this idea. If you like Buffy-fic, go over to her site. But be warned, some of her stories have high ratings. Ratings so high they won't be shown here. So, yeah. This is just the first chapter. I guess I lied about never posting anything incomplete again. But this is just fillerfic, until I can get the AU Lit. fic finished completely. It's close! I promise! Just a little more, and then I'll be posting it. It will however, be posted first at my site. So there!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 1 Fever All Through the Night

"You feeling okay, hon?" Lorelai demanded suddenly.

Rory looked up. "What?" she asked, her voice quieter than normal.

"You're not eating much," her mother pointed out. "And you look horrible."

"Thanks," Rory said, the sarcasm biting through her tone. "Sorry," she said, and rubbed her forehead. "I've just got a headache and my throat's scratchy."

"Come here," Lorelai commanded, and put her hand to Rory's face. "You're really warm, hon," she said, real worry beginning to peek through. "Come on. Finish up. We're going home, where I'm going to take your temperature."

Rory felt bad enough that she complied without a second thought, chewing two more bites of her sandwich before losing interest. "I'm done," she said, pushing her plate away.

Lorelai nodded, and gestured to Luke for the check. Before the older man could move, Jess came over. "You guys heading home?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rory said, giving him a small smile. He shrugged and bent to give her a kiss goodbye. "No, don't," she said, putting a hand to his chest. He frowned at her. "I'm sick," she told him. "I think. I just don't feel well and I don't want to give it to you." Jess nodded agreeably and kissed her on the cheek.

As soon as they were in the door to their house, Lorelai commanded at her most imperious, "Lie on the couch. I'm going to go find the thermometer."

She rooted around in the junk drawers in the kitchen for several minutes before she found it. "How did it get into the menu drawer?" she demanded.

Rory shrugged. "How did anything get anywhere in this house?"

"Good point," Lorelai conceded. "Open up."

"Ahh," Rory said.

"Good girl." Lorelai checked her watch. "Now, let's find a movie to watch, 'cause you're not going anywhere for a while." She looked through their video carton for a while, trying to find something they hadn't seen. "Ooh," Lorelai said, delighted with her find. "A mock-worthy one," she added, displaying the cover to her silent offspring. "Come on. Geena Davis as a lady pirate. It'll be fun!" Rory shrugged, already feeling her eyes drooping.

The pirate music started, maps flying over the screen with the credits, but Rory fell asleep before the actual movie started. She didn't even notice when her mother took the thermometer from her mouth and clucked her tongue. "Poor kid," she said sympathetically. "High fevers suck."

"The wind is perfect for setting sail," her mother said, shielding her eyes from the early morning rays with her parasol. "It should be a fine voyage."

The young woman beside her studied the ship they were about to board, using her studies to assess its possibilities. "I don't believe this vessel is as sound as it may be."

"Nonsense," her mother said. "Rory, your grandfather made the arrangements himself."

"Grandfather," Rory began, fond exasperation lacing her tone, "is a financier. He knows nothing of seafaring vessels or shipbuilding. I can see from here the ship's hull is beginning to rot." She pointed so her mother, Lorelai, could see.

"I'm sure they wouldn't be going to sea if the ship wasn't in fine shape," her mother said. "Now, all our luggage is already on board." She took her daughter's elbow and led her towards the gangplank. "All that's missing is us."

"Why are grandfather and grandmother insisting we take this voyage to Britain?" Rory asked.

"They claim they want us to take in my mother's country, visit relatives. In truth, they want us both to meet some wealthy British landowners and settle down. I'm sure they wouldn't be the least disappointed if the men were titled or even minor royalty."

Rory stopped and looked at her mother. "And your expectations?"

"To enjoy time away from them and their dictates." Lorelai's voice was abruptly sour.

Rory well knew things had been strained between her mother and grandparents since she'd turned down the proposal of the very rich professor Maxwell Medina. They'd wanted her to be remarried after the death of Rory's father…which no one spoke of.

She steeled herself and led the way up the gangplank, her mother following. "Permission to come aboard?" Rory called formally.

A squat, balding man smiled, showing many missing or rotted teeth. "Permission granted," he said, and his smile just widened when Lorelai stepped on after Rory. "Your lady is already on board and has arranged your cabin to your liking, I'm sure," the man continued. "If, for any reason, you do not find your accommodations to your liking, I'm sure any of the other cabins will suit."

"Any?" Lorelai asked. "Wouldn't we be upsetting the other passengers?"

"There is only one other passenger. This is a small voyage."

Rory felt misgivings cur in her stomach. "Who is the other passenger."

"A young man sailing home to England. I'm sure he'd accommodate lovely ladies such as yourselves." He made a curt gesture, and a boy who looked ten years old pushed forward. He bowed, then politely led the way below decks.

Their cabin was located at the far end of a narrow hallway. "'Ere you are, ladies," the boy said, his accent showing his Irish roots.

"Thank you," Rory said. "And what's your name?"

"Tom's me name, ma'am," he said. "You be needin' anything just give a call and I'll fetch it."

"Thank you," Lorelai said, moving and inspecting the cabin. "I thought the captain said Paris was already on board."

At the mention of her name, their maid and companion appeared in the doorway. "Oh," she said, sounding a little put out. "You're already on board. I was checking the galley to be sure our food would be suitable."

"Thank you, Paris," Rory said. "Our room looks lovely." She looked around their cabin, taking stock. There was a double bunk against one wall, with a single bedstead against the other. Lorelai would take the single bed, and Rory and Paris would take the bunks, since technically Paris was Rory's companion. A respectable widow like Lorelai had no need of a companion.

At the foot of each there were two chests bolted to the floor. They were plain chests, but filled with their belongings that Paris had painstakingly unpacked.

Rory turned and inspected the closed door: a sturdy lock was placed on it, a simple bolt controlled from the inside.

"Well," her mother said. "This looks like it will suit us well for this voyage. Let us go up to the deck and watch as we set sail."

As the trio stood on the rail, the harbor slowly faded from view, all the people bustling about on it blurring together the further they sailed. A young man also watched, but didn't approach the women, staying a respectful distance away. Rory noticed Paris looking sidelong at the young man, but kept her eyes at sea.

Finally, there was nothing but bright blue sky and ocean everywhere around them, and they went off to find more engrossing pursuits.

The first few days at sea were spent quietly in their cabins, reading or napping, growing accustomed to the motions of the ship. Rory had brought several books she had yet to read from their home's library, and read the first two in that time. But even she grew restless with sitting on her bunk and reading all day, and on their fourth day at sea, requested a tour of the ship from their cabin boy.

With Paris along, Tom showed her the galley, the hold, the deck, and she acted suitably impressed when he pointed to the top of the main mast at the crow's nest. "That's where I sleep!" he said proudly.

Throughout the tour, she grew increasingly nervous. The ship had very little crew: ten men total—including the captain—and Tom. This was hardly the well-run ship her grandfather had promised them. All the sailors were near the end of their careers, if not their lives, though the fact they had lived so long was a testament to their quality as sailors.

After the tour, she and Paris encountered the other passenger. He was lounging idly in a coil of rope, carving a block of wood, the shavings littering the ground at his feet.

Rory studied him before he noticed her presence. The young man was tall, his brown hair worn long and tied with a strip of leather. He wore fawn breeches and a white shirt casually fastened. He moved comfortably with the motion of the ship.

She turned her head to study her companion, and saw Paris' cheeks flushed. Smiling, she was about to step forward when the young man finally noticed them and jumped to his feet. "Hello!" he said, surprised. "I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you there, which was surely an oversight on my part. I am Byron James."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. James," Rory said. "I'm Rory Hayden, and this is my companion, Paris Gellar."

"A pleasure as well, ladies," James said, his upper-class British accent quite evident, lending warmth to the phrase. He smiled charmingly, specifically at Paris, and kissed each of their hands in turn.

"What brings you to be sailing on this ship?" Rory asked, seating herself on a chair Tom brought. She thanked the boy warmly.

"I'm sailing home after college," he told them.

"And where would home be?" Rory asked after a short silence, while she expected Paris to chime in.

"Stratford-upon-Avon," he said. He opened his mouth to say more when Paris interrupted.

"Where Mr. Shakespeare was born?"

The man looked both intrigued and annoyed. "Yes. You've read the good bard's works?"

"All of them," Paris said. "I cannot get enough. I adore his plays."

Rory enjoyed the sea breeze as the two animatedly discussed the classics, joining in when she wanted her opinions known. Mostly, she enjoyed her companion's enjoyment of conversing with a handsome young man. Nearly an hour later, Lorelai came to find them, smiling as she saw the smile on Paris' face.

"Mother," Rory said warmly, and stood. Only her movement got the attention of the now-debating pair, who also stood. "This is Byron James. Mr. James, this is my mother, Lorelai Hayden."

"A pleasure, madam," James said, and bowed over her hand, kissing it diligently. "Why are you ladies undergoing a sea voyage?"

"We are taking a vacation," Lorelai said, taking the last chair on the deck. "We are visiting relatives in Great Britain."

The quartet of passengers continued to talk well into the afternoon, whiling away the hours.

"It's getting quite late," Lorelai finally said, glancing at the sun beginning to dip into the sea. "Is it nearly dinner time?"

As soon as her question was asked, the galley bell rang, and they moved to eat.

They were joined at the dinner table by the captain and the first mate, who kept their conversation to themselves.

Soon, they retired to their cabins, putting out their lanterns for the night.