Hey all! This is my first fan fiction. Thanks to all my friends for listening to me endlessly discuss L & L. This story has been such a labor of love for me and I hope you enjoy it! Being a die-hard JJ, this season will be hard, so I pour everything into this story and my faith in L & L! So, since this is my first fic, PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE review/critique! I'm dying to know people's opinion & of course, reviews help motivate more chapters. Yes, that's a bribe people...so enjoy and review please :)

It wasn't supposed to be like this, but you know that…at least I know you used to know that….

Lorelai set the letter to her side, feeling her whole body go limp. Her eyelids drooped as she felt the weight of her thoughts released, finally captured on paper, somehow cathartic and painful at the same time. Carefully moving the letter further from her path, she allowed herself to fall from her vertical writing position to flat on her back. Lying on her back, she was acutely aware of the strain she had been carrying. It was the accumulation of stress and pain from the past seven months. Lying on their comforter, her muscles finally seemed to relax, the strain lessening, the release feeling just like the cool relief after the burn of Bengay. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and swiftly grabbed the pillow to her left—his pillow, she instantly thought. Holding it tightly on her stomach, Lorelai attempted to warm and ease the knots that were rapidly forming and contorting her insides. Breathing in deeply, she desperately attempted to extract any lingering scent remaining on the pillow. A vain effort, she knew, but hope was all she knew at this moment. Whether it was her imagination, pure exhaustion or truth, Lorelai swore she smelt his intoxicating scent. To her, that scent was better than coffee and more vital than oxygen. She let out a small sigh as a smile attempted to play on her lips. She repressed it, however and instead, finally allowed the exhaustion and quasi-peace to ease her into sleep.

Around two in the morning, the cool, crisp Connecticut air shooting into the bedroom awakened Lorelai. Blinking furiously, she instantly popped up, wanting to relive her dream. Rory was there, she knew that. They were home, before the remodeling. He was fixing their refrigerator, which was emitting a horrid sound that the girls had come to mock incessantly, leading him to work on it for five hours straight in the desperate (and in vain) hope that when the sound went away, so would their incessant repetition of it. As he left, he quickly kissed Lorelai on the lips. That had been it, simple, but blissful. Lorelai contemplated her dream, clinging to the feeling of his presence, basking in its comfort and peace. But it was only a dream. And Lorelai knew she didn't want to keep living in dreams, in dreams of the past, the present and the future. Shifting onto her side, she looked at the letter. Remarkably, it had stayed untouched all night, perfectly preserved and only slightly water-stained with her tears.

Despite her recent lack of trust in impulsive decisions, Lorelai leaped out of bed, taking the letter with her. Throwing on her jacket, Lorelai tied her hair into a loose ponytail as she made her way down the stairs. Her movement was swift and graceful, as if she was gliding more than walking. She felt determined, strong. However, the cool metal of her car keys sent a jolt through her, making her keenly aware of the importance of the task before her. Her stomach ached and her kneecaps felt jelly-like. Leaning herself against the table in her living room, Lorelai suddenly felt the chill in the air. Had she really gone all night without the heater on? Puzzled, she tried to recall the last time she had adjusted the temperature in her house. How long had she been numb to the cold, to the pain, to herself? Suddenly, she realized the ache and contortions in her stomach had nothing to do with anxiety, sickness or even hormones. Instead, it was the result of a hollowness within. She had been living a shell-life, passing through the motions. As much as she wanted nothing more than to run to him, tell him all the things she wrote, every new revelation, she knew it was all too fresh. She was still so fragile, afraid the slightest slight from him would crush her nerve, shattering her confidence in them, in herself. Strange, she thought. Even he had once marveled at her confidence, but when it came to him, Lorelai was a tapestry of insecurities. Checking her watch, she was surprised that only twenty minutes had passed since she awoke. The gravity of her revelations had seemed to slow time down, making minutes into hours.

Stiffening her arms, she shifted her weight from her heels towards her toes slowly, as if to test her balance. Walking as if she was treading water, Lorelai made her way to the closet. She stood, motionless, before the doors, as if she was waiting for permission to enter. In a way, she was. She needed to reconcile herself with what was, what had happened, what could happen. Pulling her hands together, her fingers fidgeted, inducing the tingling that transpires after one awakens numb tissue. Looking down at her hands, she realized she was playing with her left ring finger. She could almost feel the weight on it. After a few more seconds of this, she disentangled her fingers and reached for the doorknob. There it was. The Luke box. It wasn't hidden or pilled with heavy coats. Instead, it was center and exposed. Air rapidly filled her lungs and Lorelai quickly blew it out, cutting the silence that had blanketed her. She swiftly knelt down, shoving her hand into the box, keeping her eyes parallel, away from the memories that threatened to rise at sight. Clenching her hand around the soft fabric, she brought it out and into her line of sight. Her thumb skimmed the rim of the cap. The hallowness began to creep back into her stomach and Lorelai flinched, her legs sending her up to her normal height. No more regret, she thought. Marching back to the desk, she pulled out an envelope, scrawling his name across the front. As she licked the envelope shut, the normally bitter taste of the lining felt sweet. She closed her eyes, imaging their first kiss, the lingering taste and sensation replaying in her mind. For the first time in so long, Lorelai genuinely smiled.

Rory was furious. When she and her mother fought, it was like words became weaponry. How could she be so blind? So careless?

Rory knew that Lorelai had been suffering during her and Luke's last months as a couple, but she never thought it would escalate to this. Despite all her previous idealistic notions of having her parents finally reunited, Rory was surprisingly disappointed by Christopher and Lorelai's recent romantic involvement. To be clique, it was a recipe for disaster. And there was something else upsetting in this mess, something she dare not share with Lorelai or her father—Rory missed Luke. In all the years of Christopher's absence, Rory had unknowingly come to rely upon her relationship with Luke. Her devotion and love for him had never become so apparent as when she cut off Chris after the disastrous scene at the wedding. At first she believed that it was merely an act of solidarity with her mother, but Rory knew it was more than that. Only one person had ever penetrated the Gilmore girls inner circle. Luke had been an everyday presence in both of their lives, not just as a coffee provider and a handyman, but as a sounding board, a solid shoulder. He fit in their world, and perhaps, Rory thought, was centrally located in it.

Her father had never fit. As of lately, however, he had been desperately trying to fit. Christopher had seemed, before that night in May, to be growing up. Rory was grateful. She was finally on amicable terms with her father, being able to call him, include him in her life. And before that fateful night, her parents appeared to be friends, and more than that, Chris seemed to respect Lorelai and her new relationship. Her anger had been sizable when she heard the details of Lorelai and Luke's break-up. Her father's involvement infuriated her, however, she had to admit, that after that night, he had acted in every honorable way. He was good to Lorelai and good to her. He made every effort to make them a family, to show he'd changed and could be that guy.

But Rory knew, it was all in vain. After all, if anyone could understand the somewhat twisted mind of Lorelai Gilmore it would be her daughter.

"Mom, I want you to be happy, you know that!"

"And what Rory? I can't be happy with your dad? Why not? He's good to me." Lorelai stomped over to fridge in the Dragonfly, grabbing her emergency stash of mocha ice cream. Grabbing a spoon, she shoveled a huge piece into her mouth. These weekly conversations were exhausting. Lorelai liked a good ice cream binge like the next person, but being constantly interrogated by her daughter was starting to get annoying.

Rory had to surpress a smile, as she reached over to her mother and grabbed the spoon out of her hand. Digging deep, she almost doubled the size of the scoop Lorelai had downed. It wasn't exactly pleasant to have a come-to-Jesus talk with her mother what seemed like every other visit, but it had to be done. Taking a breath, Rory started talking with a speed and conviction that she normally reserved for her grandparents or Paris. "Exactly! Dad is finally coming around…you two have a shot at a real relationship. He's talking to me about the future, wanting to move in together, making you a permanent fixture in Gigi's life. He's ready!" Rory inhaled, as she watched her mother's eyes dart around the room. There it was, Rory thought. Validation that Lorelai wasn't in this relationship, let alone anywhere since Luke. Drawing breath again, she continued, "But you're not ready, are you? I can tell by the way you're biting your lip. You know, I got most of my nervous habits from you mom." Lorelai relaxed her clenched face. "You're just not ready because you're still not over it….gosh, Mom, you really can't see it can you?"

"Call me Helen Keller!" Lorelai shouted, lifting her arms up in the air. Her arm movements had been so quick and violent that the spoon had flown out of her hand, making a loud resounding bell sound as it crashed into the floor.

Rory's eyes widened in frustration as she saw her mother fighting with all reason. "Please! For once, just be honest with yourself….you're still in lov—"

"No! Don't you even say it Lorelai Gilmore!" With that Lorelai power walked over to the coffee pot. Lorelai didn't believed in anything resembling exercise, but this, this she considered sprinting for. Drinking the warm liquid, she breathed deep, believing in its powers to quell the rising anger in her gut.

Rory shook her head, taking this as more proof of her mother's denial. "You can't live in denial. It's such a lie—denial is not a safe place to be! In fact, it's dangerous, deadly! It's lions, tigers and bears, oh my! C'mon mom, you told me yourself! You never loved anyone until Luke. And he still loves you! God, why can't I make you hear me for the umpteenth time!"

Lorelai shook her head, frustrated with her daughter's innate stubbornness, a stubbornness she knew she inherited from her mother, and frighteningly enough, her mother inherited from her mother. After five months of being in a relationship with Christopher, Rory still wouldn't give up on bringing up Luke.

"You really want me to run to Luke…after all that he said to me. It's over Rory, I've accepted it and now you need to. Even Ben and Jen broke up. That's life. Stop saying 'I want you to be happy' and just accept that I am. I was engaged, you don't just get over that. But I've moved on and I'm the happiest I've been in months. Let me enjoy Vince!"

"Happier than when you were with Luke?" Rory instantly knew this question was out of line and regretted asking. She knew the honest answer would be no, but she knew Lorelai never-loose-an-argument Gilmore wouldn't admit defeat. Whipping her head to the side, Rory felt she was making her mother lie to her and she couldn't bear to witness that.

Instead of a responding immediately, Lorelai placed her hands firmly on her hips, squaring her shoulders and seeming to glue her feet to the ground. Rory knew this stance, Lorelai was preparing for battle, putting up her shield and waving the red flag. Fine, let's go, Rory thought.

"Rory, I'm happy. End of story." With this statement Lorelai flattened her hand at her hip, sweeping it across her body, emphasizing her point.

"Really?" Rory didn't mean to chuckle as this word escaped her mouth, but she did. She was teetering on the point of utter frustration and her words were beginning to drip with sarcasm, brimming with her sadness and anger.

"Yes Regis, that is my final answer." Lorelai returned, matching, if not, topping her daughter's surly tone.

"But, you—"

However, before Rory could gain any speed with her words, her mother placed her hand to her mouth, stunning her into silence. Lorelai slowly removed her hand from Rory's face. She hated that they argued like this. Cupping Rory's face with both hands now, she lightly kissed her daughter's cheek. Backing away from her, Lorelai's words become softer. "Rory, my heart, I'm not having this conversation with you."

"No! You don't get to do that, you don't get to dictate this conversation." Rory suddenly felt taller, as she noticed her shoulders now square, her body now imitated her mother's previous stance. New stance, new stance, Rory thought as she peered down at the ground. As a new angle came to her, her head popped up as the words spilled out of her mouth, threatening to strangle each other. "So fine, we won't talk about your happiness. How about my father's happiness? Or Luke's?"

"Your father…what? Rory! He's happy, we're happy, we're doing fine. And what do you mean Luke's happiness? He made it perfectly clear to me that him being happy had nothing to do with me being in his life." Lorelai paused briefly, as she had to force herself not to fall into the memory of their street fight. Shaking her head tightly and slightly violently, she continued on. "Now let me and your father just be."

"I can't. I can't watch dad get all these hopes and notions of picked white fences like the Cleavers, knowing you're not really in it. And as for Luke, that's not what he said to me!" Oh crap, Rory thought. Had she really just divulged that bombshell? Lorelai had never taken well to other people interfering in her life (although she felt the need to do just that).

"What? Did you talk to Luke about me?" Lorelai looked at her daughter, holding her gaze. Lorelai felt a lump rise in her throat and reminded herself to breath when she notice that both her and Rory were standing breathless. Thousands of questions flooded Lorelai's mind. When? Why? Who called for the meeting? What did he say? Lorelai reached her hand out and her fingers fumbled to find the edge of the kitchen counter. Once she did, she latched on, her weight shifting, as she noticed her knees suddenly unable to support her tiny frame. As a cloud of confusion settled over her, she suddenly remembered Rory's presence and forced herself to disregard her ardent desire to endlessly probe her daughter for answers.

Rory knew something had changed in Lorelai's gaze, it suddenly looked softer, as she nervously awaited her answer. And then Rory saw it, the naked vulnerability rarely seen in the eyes of Lorelai Gilmore—something she'd only seen twice before, when she lost Luke the first time and Rory to the Gilmores.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry…but oh mom, if you could just see yourself now. Please, think about this. Go home and think."

Think about what? Lorelai screamed in her head. Did he say something---No! She cut herself off from this line of thought immediately. She refused to go down this road again. After all it was laden with potholes and Lorelai knew that she might not survive another trip. Sighing, she feigned a smile and said in her best uppity voice, "No, I won't go home, I won't think about this. I have a date with your father."

"No you don't." Rory's voice was low, but firm.

"What?" Lorelai's brow furred in suspicion. "Rory, what did you do?"

"I called dad and said I needed you for the night and so no, you don't have a date with dad." Rory quickly darted her eyes from Lorelai's intense gaze. She knew her mother would be attempting to burn her with her eyes. But she had no choice, she had to make her mother see reason. After all, she is the reasonable one in the family.

"Please mom, just go home, think about it. Hell, why can't I say it, go think about Luke."

"Oh, I'm going home all right, but only because we're done here. I'll talk to you tomorrow, I just can't…I can't…I can't even deal with this now." And with that Lorelai stormed out of the kitchen. The door slammed quickly behind her and Rory wondered whether her mother had slammed it or the sheer quickness and force with which she had walked out of the room caused the jolt now surging through the Dragonfly.

After replaying their argument over in her head, Rory's anger began to subside. Slipping into the sheets, Rory felt utterly drained of emotion. These constant arguments were beginning to take a toll on their relationship and with all the stress of the paper, Logan's absence and her insane class load (her own fault, she knew) Rory needed her confidant. Looking at the clock, it was 12:20. I'll call tomorrow, she thought, as her eyelids fell shut. However, a phone call at 3 am awoke her before she could make any call.

"Yes, this is Rory Gilmore…..Wait, what? When? ….Okay, I'll be right there."