Author's note: I had this little thought in my head. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I own naught but the plot.

"Hey, Dad."

Lorelai Gilmore walked into her father's office and slid into the chair opposite him. Posture appropriate for the cotillion she never got to attend, she resisted the urge to chew on her nails.

"Hello, Lorelai," Richard Gilmore said in a hard voice, his eyes focused on the file before him. The sound of his pen scratching against paper held a more inviting tone than his words did.

"So, um, how's it goin'?" Lorelai asked, trying to make friendly conversation.

"I'm working, Lorelai," he said in that same cold, hard voice, his pen continuing to dart nonstop across his paper.

Her face crumpled—a lost game of Jenga—at his tone. His eyes, so like his daughter's, remained trained on his work.

Setting his pen down, he asked, "Is there something you specifically needed, Lorelai?"

A spark of hope ignited in her chest. His pen! He put his pen down! She leaned toward him, wanting so much for her dad to just look at her. Even for a second.

His gaze, instead of lifting to meet hers, traveled to his bottom desk drawer as he reached down to pull out another file. Her heart pounding and back breaking, she sunk back into her chair—cotillion posture nonexistent.

"I just-" she broke off, sighing sadly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing…"

Richard flipped through the file lying open on his desk, his eyes never leaving the pages in front of him, never meeting the blue eyed gaze of his 17 year old daughter.

"I'm fine, Lorelai. Thank you for coming in. I will see you at dinner." He dismissed her with a slight nod of his head.

Lorelai stood swiftly, fleeing the room as her eyes began to sting with unshed tears. She walked as fast as she could to the bathroom without actually breaking into a full-fledged run. As the door clicked closed behind her, she slid down the length of it, ending up with her back to the door and her arms wrapped around her knees. The tears began to fall as she thought about her relationship with her father. She laid her wet cheek upon her jean covered knee, stifling her sobs with her upper arm.

It broke her heart to know just how much she'd disappointed and hurt Richard by getting pregnant. She missed him doting on her and defending her whenever her mother became too critical. She missed him asking about her day; she missed his curiosity; she missed how much he used to care.

She exhaled long and loud, hearing it come out as a lonely sigh, and wiped her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeves. Standing, she washed her face before heading down the hall to her daughter's room. Mere feet from the door, a rough hand pulled her back.

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to check on my daughter. The nanny said I could come back in 20 minutes…" Lorelai said, pulling her arm out of her mother's grasp on the pretense of checking her overly expensive silver watch.

"She's just been put down for her nap. You know it's important for her to have a schedule. You should've stayed earlier," Emily said.

"But the nanny told me to come back in 20 minutes!" Lorelai protested.

"Do nottake that tone with me," Emily chided before grabbing Lorelai's shoulder and dragging her away from Rory's room. "Why you have to be so dramatic, I'll never know. You can see her later."

"She's my daughter, Mom! I'm the one person who should have no restrictions on seeing my kid! In fact, I should be the one making restrictions!"

"Will you stop acting like such a petulant child, Lorelai? She's sleeping. There's nothing to see or do while she's sleeping. And no one is making restrictions. Children need schedules and stability. It's just a nap," Emily said, her tone airy and condescending. "But by all means, if you need to wake her up for your own selfish reasons, go ahead."

Clenching her jaw tightly, Lorelai turned on her heel and headed back to her bedroom, wanting nothing more than to make that haughty, smug expression disappear from her mother's face.

"That's what I thought. So dramatic," Emily muttered as she proceeded down the stairs.

Lorelai stopped mid-step, fuming, and took a few purposeful steps toward Rory's room. Hand inches from the doorknob, she sighed, her anger fading, and retreated. In that moment, she vowed to never allow her anger at her mother to affect her daughter.

This wasn't working. She couldn't raise Rory like this. Not in this house of silence and anger, of underhandedness and condescension. Not in this house where she's almost willing to disturb her child just to spite her mother. It wasn't working. And it never would.

I hope you liked it! Please review!