Chapter 1: Sacrificial Lambs
St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center was its busiest in the evenings. As dusk fell, the automatic doors would open at seemingly double their normal rate, bringing in the fare of the day. The day's woes - trauma patients or shooting victims. The day's joys - almost exclusively mothers about to give birth.
From his spot mopping the hospital's floors, Luke Danes observed all this and more. You could learn a lot just from observation - the ability to keep one's eyes and ears open and process all around you had served Luke well throughout his life. It was how he had learned to wield even the toughest of hardware tools and even perform some basic carpentry and repairs; his father's guidance had only been a safety net at best. It was how he had learned to cook under his mom, beginning with toast before eventually working his way up to full meals; Luke dreamed of opening up his own diner one day. Luke had become a sports prodigy from observing as well - becoming so talented he was even offered a baseball scholarship at the college closest to his hometown of Stars Hollow, Connecticut.
Unfortunately, that was when his father had been struck with cancer.
His sports dreams gone, and even opportunities for higher education closed, the young Danes had joined scores of others in the white working class. He helped in his father's hardware store, before eventually taking on the job of a janitor here at St. Francis to help his family pay the bills. The task was menial, so there wasn't much learning to be involved. But what Luke had learned was a plethora of valuable medical tips - tips he would call upon when needed to help his ill father. Like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. How to diagnose an over-enlarged chest cavity. Things like that.
Pausing in his work, Luke looked at the clock. 6:36 PM, October 7th, 1984. He hated the night shift, but it was the only one he could do and still manage his job at the hardware store. He'd be here until 6 in the morning, before driving back the half-hour to Stars Hollow...
Just then, the automatic doors slammed open. "We need nurses over here!" someone bellowed. A team of doctors was wheeling in a young woman by wheelchair. Her stomach was bloated, and by the looks of her, she couldn't be much older than a teenager.
Luke wanted to groan. Not another teen pregnancy. Under President Ronald Reagan, the drug culture was beginning to skyrocket. More kids experimenting with opioids, more kids having underage sex and ultimately, more babies being born into broken families. He shook his head. He should not be assuming that about this girl; he didn't even know her! And from the slivers of clothing he saw under her hospital gown, Luke knew the designing was expensive. She probably came from a rich family, to afford such nice clothes. Was she rebelling from strict parents of high society, perhaps? There, that seemed more plausible! The only deductions you could make were ones backed up by evidence.
As the doctors wheeled the teenager back into the delivery room, Luke was struck by her beauty. She had a pretty, round face, jet-black hair and deep blue eyes. Also striking was her strength. Unlike most mothers in labor - mothers usually far older than her - this girl did not make a sound. She seemed unusually calm, in fact, almost unconcerned, as she was hustled in.
Luke just sighed and re-focused on his mop. If that girl was cool and collected now, she wouldn't be once the contractions really started to hit.
A little while later, Luke had progressed into the main entryway of the maternity ward, when a nurse came running up to him. "Hey, you!" she addressed in his direction, without any consideration of proper etiquette or deportment. "Baby mama has lost her cookies in Room 217! Clean-up, now!"
The least she could do was say please. But if there was one thing Luke had also learned, it was that employers had no time for niceties or friendly chit-chat. He was a janitor. He did what he was told.
Luke moved his cart further into the ward, searching for 217. He identified it quickly, not by the number on the wall, necessarily, but by the commotion happening just outside the door. A fairly rich, affluent couple were yelling at the doctors, demanding to be let in to see their daughter. Well, actually, it was the mother who was doing the yelling. "What teenager leaves a note for her mother, saying, 'Dear Mom and Dad, I'm in labor. See you later. Lorelai', I ask you? To hell with this confidentiality stuff. I'm her mother; she's 16 years old and can't be making these decisions on her own! You must let us back there!"
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we're only following hospital policy..."
A man with a pronounced mustache, presumably the hysterical woman's husband, tried to calm the mother down in an almost apologetic, sheepish way. "Emily, please, we don't want to make a scene..."
"It's a little too late for that, Richard!"
Luke maneuvered his cart past them and towards the entrance to Room 217, hoping not to be noticed. That worked out about as well as he had expected.
"She's thrown up, hasn't she? And why's he going in there? Really? You're going to let a filthy janitor man go into my daughter's room, but not her own parents?"
Luke pushed his cart into the room and quickly shut the door. Too much drama! He stopped short as he turned around, nearly stepping in the yellow muck that covered almost all of what floorspace was not taken up by the hospital bed off to one side.
The bed's occupant turned out to be the young girl he had seen wheeled into St. Francis earlier. Wordlessly, Luke began to mop up the mess. The girl watched him silently, groaning against each contraction, hands clutching her stomach.
"Sorry about... the mess..." she finally got out.
Luke shrugged. "It's not your fault. I've cleaned up worse." And he had. Wringing the gunk out into the cart's bowl, he made some small talk. "Lorelai, is it? How you feeling, champ?"
"How did you know my..."
"Your mom is out there screaming for you," Luke offered by way of explanation.
"For me, or at me?" Lorelai queried.
Luke could not help it. He chuckled, amused at this girl's rapier wit. "A little bit of both, perhaps." A pause. "Is everything OK?"
"It hurts," Lorelai moaned. Then, she let out a bloodcurdling scream that nearly burst Luke's eardrum. She winced. "Sorry. This little lady is not making things easy on Mama."
"Congratulations," Luke said as sincerely as he could. "That little girl is going to be lucky to have a mother like you."
Lorelai laughed mirthlessly. "No, she won't. If I know what's coming for both of us when this is over, it would be better if neither of us was here..."
Luke was shocked. He had never heard such a reply before to congratulations on childbirth. Oh sure, they ran the gamut from deliriously happy returns of 'Thank You' to morphine-induced hysterical screams of 'FUCK YOU!' Never had he heard a mother express such... resignation before even having the chance to try motherhood out for size. Luke suddenly recalled the frantic parents standing just outside. He thought back to the anger in that Emily woman's voice, and wondered if his hunch from earlier had been right. Were those parents the controlling type? Then, even more unsettling: would they punish Lorelai for going through with the birth, or worse the little baby simply for just existing? He sure hoped not. Teenage pregnancy was never a good situation for anyone involved, but even the most tragic cases eventually inspired the best rationality and optimism out of those affected. For Lorelai, he wondered if her family would fit that mold.
Luke finally finished clearing up the mess. "Thank you, Mr..." Lorelai left the statement hanging in mid-air.
"Luke," Luke shrugged.
"Thank you, Luke," she said quietly.
The janitor took his leave. "See you around."
He did not know why, but her almost whispered reply of "I doubt it," sent a noose around his stomach. Luke passed by Lorelai's still protesting mother, ignoring her almost improvisational insertion of him into her rants, before taking up a post by the reception desk across from Lorelai's room. He needed to clean this area, anyway. Between strokes of the mop, he would keep an eye on Room 217 as doctors and nurses flitted in and out. Richard and Emily were eventually allowed to go in. Lorelai's screams shook the walls. Eventually, Luke had to move on to a new area, but he nevertheless hoped that girl would be all right...
5:30 in the morning. October 8th, 1984. Luke was just going back down the halls near the end of his shift, giving the floors a last once-over to see if he had missed any spots. As he approached the 200s section of the ward, he heard voices.
"Now, ma'am, are you sure this is Lorelai's decision?"
For some reason, Luke hid himself around the corner, eavesdropping.
"Of course. Her name's on the paper, isn't it? Adoption is the best course for all this. Besides, she's in a coma right now, and if something happens to her... this is what she would want."
Luke almost gasped. Lorelai had fallen into a coma during childbirth? Would she be all right? She couldn't die; her baby needed her!
The nurse sighed. "I can take her to social services on the way home from my shift. They'll be able to place her in an orphanage or foster home at some point. Any recommendations for a suitable home environment for her?"
Emily's response chilled Luke's bones. "They can do what they like with her. She's nothing to me."
Luke fumed. How dare a woman talk of her own granddaughter that way! Then again, adoption had apparently been Lorelai's decision. And if her strange comment in the delivery room had been any indication, perhaps she thought she was sparing her daughter from an imprisoned existence in a controlling household. But at least the grandmother could ensure the baby be placed in a caring home?
Footsteps came closer. Luke pretended to busy himself with his mop as the nurse came through the doors, carrying what had to be Lorelai's baby in her arms. For just a moment, Luke caught sight of the baby's eyes, peering directly at him from amongst the blankets. Blue eyes... eyes as blue as sapphires...
At 6 AM on the dot, Luke was in his truck and pulling away from St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center. By 6:30, he should be back in Stars Hollow, ready to open up the hardware store for the day. Work till noon before getting a few hours of sleep until he had to leave for the hospital to start the whole damn process over again.
He was on the highway, making great time. The skies were still dark, and the roads were practically deserted. Suddenly, the uniform blackness was pierced by orange flames.
Luke swerved to a stop on the side of the road. Against the guardrail, half-smashed, was a station wagon. The young janitor quickly got out and rushed over. Oh God...
"Hey! Anyone alive in there?" he bellowed. "Hey!" Peering through the window of the driver's side, he froze when he saw who it was.
It was the nurse. The one who had promised to take Lorelai's baby to social services. She now stared with eyes that no longer saw. Luke felt for a pulse. There was none.
There was a roar of fire and Luke jumped away from the car. The baby... was it even still alive in there?
As if in answer, Luke suddenly heard it: the plaintive wails of an infant...
Luke backed along the car to the passenger seats, driver's side. There she was! Strapped in a car seat, thankfully on the side opposite the one now crumpled against the guardrail. Luke desperately tried the door. It was locked! Thinking fast, Luke rammed his fist through the window.
"GAHHH!" Glass shards sliced his hand to pieces, but he ignored the blood. He reached for the straps of the baby's car seat. All the while, he tried to sooth the terrified infant. "It's all right, sweetie, I'm going to get you out of here..."
Luke found the buckle. After practically breaking the thing to get it open, he batted away the straps. Using only his non-injured hand, he lifted the baby free, still wrapped in a blanket, and pulled her through the window. Flames suddenly caught on his jacket sleeve. Luke screamed, shrugging the thing off before stamping out the fire.
Then, he ran like hell.
And not a moment too soon. For just then, the car exploded, throwing Luke to the ground. In that split second of careening through the air, he managed to cushion the baby's body against his own, so that he took the brunt of the impact.
The piercing wails of sirens split the air. Oh no... Luke had to get out of there! Staggering to his feet, Luke stumbled to his truck, climbing into the driver's side and nestling the baby on his lap. Stepping on the gas, he fled the scene.
The baby wailed all the way back to Stars Hollow. Luke would occasionally talk to her, trying to calm her down. "Hey, hey, sssshhhhhh... ssssshhhhhhh... you're safe now. That was some adventure, huh, kid? Huh... Rory?" Luke noticed the name stitched into the blanket she was wrapped in. He wondered if Lorelai had made it herself. And speaking of making it... was she alive? Had she come out of that coma? He didn't know.
But he did know that whatever situation he had gotten himself into, it was a tangled web of death and despair. At that very moment, Luke vowed he would not let it destroy him, and especially not Rory.
Luke stumbled into William Danes' hardware store. His injured hand was stuffed into his jeans pocket; with the other, he cradled Rory. "Mom! Dad!"
Lights came on in the stairwell leading to their family's apartment above the store. Katherine Danes soon appeared in her bathrobe, followed by her husband. "Luke, what's wrong - Oh my Lord!" she gasped when she saw the sight before her. "Luke, what happened?"
Luke told her the whole story: how he had encountered Lorelai when she came into the hospital, then when he cleaned her room; how he had overheard Emily giving the child up for adoption, then encountering the car wreck on the way back home.
"The whole thing went up in flames, Mom! I barely saved Rory, but I couldn't save the nurse! She was already gone."
Katherine blinked. "Rory?"
"That's all I know about her. It's written in her blanket," and Luke presented the slightly charred cloth, still swaddling the infant. Katherine gingerly took the little girl from his son.
"Ohhhhh... poor thing! Poor thing!" his mother crooned. "And you said she has no one now?"
"No one who wants her, anyway," Luke said sadly. William put a hand on his shoulder.
"What are you going to do, son?"
"I will take care of her," Luke found himself saying. He turned to his father. "Will I have to adopt her?"
William bit his lip. "We will have to go to social services and adopt her there properly. But Luke... we have to hope they don't ask questions of how you found her. Or what you know. It could jeopardize your job at the hospital."
"We will worry about this in the morning. For right now, Luke, you are to keep going back to the hospital and work and act like nothing is wrong. Wait until this all quiets down." his mother advised.
Luke nodded... then jumped when Rory started suddenly wailing again. And she just calmed down, too...
Luke held out his hands. "Here. Give her to me." Katherine passed Rory off, and Luke headed upstairs to his room. Flopping down on his bed, he rested Rory on his chest. Softly stroking her back, he sighed.
"What am I going to do with you, little one?" Within moments, both baby and janitor were asleep.