Disclaimer
All recognizable Gilmore Girls characters belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, and the WB. I use these characters & their story without permission, but am not making any profit from the copyrighted characters. No infringement is intended.

"Emily?" He walked into his study, finally finding her sitting at the desk, bent over some papers.

Lifting her head, her eyes remained on the page she was reading. "Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to come to bed?" Richard still stood in the doorway, his hand on the door knob. Watching her nod slowly, he was surprised when she answered, "Yes, of course. I just have to finish this first."

Furrowing his brow, he suddenly wondered what could be so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow. He sighed audibly and gave her a pointed look, even though she still hadn't made eye contact. "It's late, Emily."

Finally tearing her eyes from the form she was filling out at the moment, she gave him a weak smile. "I'm sorry, dear. Just go ahead, I will be there in five minutes."

He wanted to reply something but realized that she was already deep in thought again. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and closed the door behind him, leaving her to finish whatever it was she was doing.

~*~*~*~

"Richard?"

He pressed the received closer to his ear, mentally cursing the bad connection. "Emily? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it in ti#e for dinn#r."

Richard tried to ignore the heavy static. "What? Why?"

"### really s#rry, darling, but I have to #eet #### ######. And ##### is ju#####. I hope you und##stand."

"Emily, I can't hear you. The connection is bad." He covered his other ear while scanning the phone for a volume up key.

"Well, I d#n't have t#me to expl### further. I'll see ### ##ter."

"Emily?" He called but after a few more moments of static, the monotone beeping of the free line was heard. Huffing in frustration, Richard slammed the receiver onto the cradle, grabbed his putter from where it had been resting against the wall and stormed off to the make-shift putting range in the backyard. Maybe a little golf would help settle his nerves.

~*~*~*~

Emily felt drained. She tried to remember when she had last felt this exhausted, but it seemed she couldn't. Giving up, she decided she was too tired to even think about something this unimportant and to let it go in favor for a hot shower and an early night. Closing the door behind her, she shuffled over to the closet, slipping out of her coat as she went. Even walking was too strenuous. Maybe she would forgo the shower; but then … no. Hanging up her coat, she took a deep breath and sighed. Her head was throbbing in tune with her feet it seemed. 'Bed.' Yes, that was a good idea. Turning around, she almost shrieked when she came face to face with her husband. Her hand flew to her chest, covering her wild beating heart. "Richard!" She closed her eyes for a second before glaring at him. "God, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"What took you so long?" He growled angrily, tightening the belt of his burgundy robe.

Furrowing her brow, she couldn't believe her ears. "What?"

"It's past nine, Emily."

"I can read a clock, Richard." She snapped, brushing past him to make her way up the stairs.

Turning to follow her, he was somewhat surprised by her angry remark. "You have been gone for a good five hours." He watched her mount the stairs while he remained standing at the bottom of the staircase.

"Oh, so now you're keeping track on where I go and how long I'm away?" She turned on the platform, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

"You weren't here for dinner-"

She cut him off. "-I told you I wouldn't be. I called."

"And then you stay away god-knows-where until past nine?!"

"I will not defend myself over something like that." She all but yelled and continued to march up and towards the bedroom.

"Emily, come back here!" He shouted, following her quickly.

Forcefully pushing the bedroom door open, she headed straight for the bathroom.

"You don't walk away in the middle of a conversation."

"This is not a conversation, Richard. This is an argument. And I will walk away from you and your unfounded accusations whenever I want."

With his mouth ajar, he watched her storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. The anger had suddenly subsided and he found himself thinking 'God, she's sexy when she's angry.' Smiling to himself, he mentally added, 'I missed this.'

~*~*~*~

Slowly waking up from a very nice dream, Richard Gilmore smiled to himself when the veil of sleepiness finally vanished and he began to get aware of his surroundings.

He was lying on his back, the soft mattress beneath him making him feel as if he were lying on a cloud, like it always did when he took a moment to savor the feeling. One leg of his silk pajamas had ridden up to his knee under the sheets and a small, warm foot was limply lying against his upper shank. This foot was connected to an equally warm leg, draped over his, the thigh dangerously close to his family jewels. Pressed against his side, he felt his wife's slim torso, her deep, steady breathing signaling that she was still asleep. A hand was resting on his chest, slipped halfway inside his pajama top and he could feel the soft weight of a head lying right above his heart. One of his arms held her body close; the other was lying on top of the sheets and across his own torso, his hand lazily draped over the woman's elbow.

Richard felt a twitching in his groin and his smile widened. Finally opening his eyes, he took a deep, slow breath and turned his head to look towards the window. It was still dark outside. Turning his head further, he tried to figure out what time the alarm clock on his night stand was showing and furrowed his brow. 4:20. So he had another ten minutes before the alarm would sound and another day would start. Richard sighed inaudibly; another day of boredom; another day with soup as main course and fish for dinner. Turning his face to brush his lips against Emily's forehead, he felt a pang of sadness. Another day with her refusing to let him do anything but kiss her. Well, maybe... He rolled them over and looked down at her.

Her eyes were still closed. Studying her relaxed features for a moment he couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked. It seemed as if she was smiling slightly in her sleep, the corners of her lips curled up ever so slightly. Leaning down, he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. Gently kissing her ear, he proceeded to nip, lick and kiss his way down her slender neck and towards her chest. He smiled when he heard her inhale deeply, her hand brushing through his hair as she arched into his touch.

Running her hand through his hair, Emily smiled as she woke from her slumber. Her husband's hand had slipped under her pajama top and was slowly making its way upwards. She moaned lowly when his fingers continued to draw invisible patterns on her body. Opening her eyes, a smile spread over her features when Richard pulled away for a moment and met her eyes. She closed them again when he pressed a loving kiss to her lips, his leg moving between hers. Emily felt desire build in her body. She let her hand travel down her husband's broad chest, unbuttoning his pajama top as she went. Brushing her fingertips across his skin, she suddenly stopped in her tracks; the scar. Quickly pulling away from the man she loved, she tried to hide her frustration with a sweet smile. "Please, Richard."

He noticed that her hand was pressed against his shoulder instead of his chest. Rolling onto his back, he huffed in frustration just before the alarm clock went off. Angrily pulling the small clock from his night stand, he threw it across the room and heard it shatter when it hit the half-opened sliding door to the dressing room. With some satisfaction, he noticed that at least the beeping had stopped.

Emily was taken aback by his display of anger. Trying to remember the last time he had thrown anything in an angry fit, she realized she couldn't. To a certain degree, what he had just done frightened her. But she had to admit that another part of her found it incredibly sexy. Deciding to get out of the bed before anything she would regret later could happen, she walked over to where her robe was hanging over the back of the chair in front of her vanity.

"Where are you going?" He asked while he watched her put on her robe and open the curtains.

"I have an early meeting with Tammy," she replied, tying the belt of her robe and walking towards the dressing room, "then I have to go and sign some forms at Hartman's office, and then," she stopped next to the shattered clock, picked it up and looked back at her husband, "I will go and buy you a new alarm clock." With that, she opened the door and slipped out of the room.

Rolling his eyes, Richard sighed dramatically and shook his head. Strangely enough, throwing the clock had actually helped a little. He still hated the fact that he hadn't succeeded in seducing his wife, but at least the frustration had subsided to a bearable level. 'Hartman's?' Richard wondered why Emily would have to sign any forms at their lawyer's office. Shaking his head, he flung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. Today was Tuesday. What on earth was there to do on a Tuesday? Oh well, at least it was only one more day until the next doctor's appointment. Maybe he could ask Joshua whether or not he was allowed to have intercourse again.

~*~*~*~

"Richard?"

He heard his wife calling from the living room and cursed under his breath when the sudden noise made him hit the ball too hard. Watching it making its way right over the hole and into some bushes, he sighed.

"There you are." Emily appeared on the patio, her arms wrapped around herself, her shoulders slightly raised. Coming to a halt a few feet away from him, he saw her accusing look. "Oh, Richard, how often did I tell you to wear a hat out here?"

Rolling his eyes, he decided to ignore her and positioned himself for another putt.

She watched him concentrate on the ball and felt her anger rise. It took a lot of self control to not just walk over there, take this silly putter and throw it into the pool. Emily imagined his face, painting mental scenarios on what else to do with the detested metal stick her husband spent more time with than with her lately. Reminding herself of what the doctor said, she tried to tame her temper and speak in a calm voice. "We will have to leave for the banquet at the Beakman's in about an hour. Could you please come inside and get dressed?"

"I am not going." He answered in an equally calm voice, silently hoping that he would be able to coax her into an argument.

"What?"

Richard tried to hide his smile at the angry pitch in her voice. Turning to face her, he raised his brow and gave her a smug smile. "I don't feel up to it." He felt a strange kind of satisfaction at the storm that was raging in her eyes. Now if only she would act on it.

Grinding her teeth, Emily pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breath slowly through her nose as she held eye contact with her husband. How dare he? She balled her hands into fists, digging her nails so hard into her palms that she was sure it would draw blood any moment. 'Remember what the doctor said.' Oh, how she wished she could wipe that self-satisfied grin off his face somehow. But she couldn't. She couldn't risk doing anything that would jeopardize his recovery. Inhaling deeply, she forced her face into a fake smile and nodded courteously. "All right," she couldn't help the flicker of sadness that crossed her features before she turned to leave.

The challenging twinkle in his eyes wavered for only a second, his agitation about her seeming languidness taking even him by surprise. He watched her walk back into the house and felt a pang of sadness. Where had his Emily gone?

Richard looked down at the golf ball that was still lying in front of him. Taking his putter, he repositioned himself, so that he could shoot the ball across the long side of the garden, he took a full swing, releasing all the pent up energy and anger he felt and watched in satisfaction as the ball flew up into the sky, getting smaller and smaller. Taking a look at his putter, he brushed his thumb over the metal and felt a slight dent. Oh well, he would just buy a new one.

~*~

Sitting in the living room, reading, Richard looked up as he heard the front door being opened and smiled. He quickly got up, put the book down on the coffee table and rushed to the foyer.

His wife was putting down the briefcase she had been carrying with a sigh as she shrugged off her heavy coat. A business suit came to view beneath it.

Furrowing his brow, he stepped closer and was surprised when she glared at him, making him stop in his tracks. "Emily?"

"I just had a meeting with Floyd and the attorneys of Nike." She motioned towards him and he looked down at himself, noticing that he was wearing his jogging suit. "They say they want to sue you for not obeying their slogan."

The seriousness in her eyes let his laughter die in his throat. He swallowed hard. "Emily, why are you-"

She raised a hand for silencing him. "I was able to talk them out of it. But the company is raising our insurance. If you excuse me now, I still have a lot of work to do. Don't wait with dinner."

He watched her walk towards the study, dumbstruck by her statement. What did their insurance have to do with all of this? Following her, he tried to stop her but for some reason found he couldn't. "Emily. This is my office."

"No, Richard." She turned to look at him. "It is mine."

Richard woke up with a start. Sitting up straight in bed, he was surprised to hear the announcer comment on someone hitting a birdie and felt the remote slide off his stomach, falling onto the floor with a loud thud.

He rubbed his hand over his face to get rid of the strange feelings the dream had left within him. 'It is mine.'... Sucking in a breath, he held it as he suddenly realized something.

Phone calls that disturbed them at dinner, papers that kept her in the study instead of going to bed, meetings that made her miss dinner or come home late. ... His heart tightened in his chest. Emily had picked up where he had left off. She was now living both their lives, and she hated it.

...And so did he.

~*~*~*~

Stepping into her home after another exhausting day, Emily shrugged off her coat and was greeted by a smiling maid.

"Good evening, Mrs. Gilmore." Lydia said and curtseyed, taking the coat from her employer's slender hands.

"Thank you, Lydia." She was slightly confused by the cheerfulness in this maid's behaviour. None of her employees that had to be around her husband the whole day still had had the energy to smile when greeting her in the evening.

"Francette left thirty minutes ago, the cook five minutes later. Would you like me to heat you up something?"

Thinking about it for a moment, Emily shook her head slightly. "No, thank you."

"Oh, you should eat something, Ma'am. The chicken was delicious." Lydia's smile turned into a forced one when Emily's glare made her add, "Mr. Gilmore said so."

Emily furrowed her brow; Richard complimenting the chef? Now that hadn't happened since ... she tried to remember; it must have been before the heart attack. Remembering Lydia's presence, Emily looked at the slender girl and finally nodded. "All right, I think I'll have some after all. I will go upstairs to freshen up and expect to be down here in not more than fifteen minutes." She watched the maid nod and turned towards the staircase.

Walking into their bedroom, Emily was surprised not to find her husband in his usual spot, watching TV. She furrowed her brow slightly and shook her head. She hadn't seen him in the living room either. Strolling towards the window, she pushed the lace curtains aside to look down into the garden, even more surprised that Richard was not at the putting range. Deciding to investigate later, she walked into the dressing room and grabbed a casual outfit. She yearned to go to bed and hoped that a quick shower would wash some of the fatigue out of her system.

~*~

Thirteen minutes later, she was descending the staircase in a dark blue twin set and brown slacks, her hair still immaculate but now without the heavy coat of hairspray she had brushed out of it. A smile graced her features when she walked into the dining room where the maid had already set up a plate. Inspecting the table, she nodded in approval at the immaculate setting just as Lydia entered the room.

"Would you like me to serve dinner now, Mrs. Gilmore?"

"Yes, Lydia, thank you," Emily nodded again and sat down at the table. Placing the napkin on her lap, she addressed the younger woman again. "Lydia?"

The maid stopped on the way to the kitchen, turned and curtseyed. "Yes, Mrs. Gilmore?"

"Would you happen to know where my husband is hiding?" Emily asked, adding, "I haven't seen him since I arrived."

"Oh, the last time I saw him, he was heading towards his study." The girl replied, waiting to be dismissed.

Raising her eyebrows, the corners of her lips curled up further. Emily nodded her thanks, "Thank you, Lydia."

~*~

Richard had been right; the chicken had been delicious. Now standing in front of the closed door to Richard's study, Emily felt slightly nervous. Mentally scolding herself, she reached for the door handle while knocking gently. Without waiting for an answer, she slowly opened the door and peeked in.

"Emily." He looked up from his laptop and smiled at her. "I was wondering where you were."

Closing the door behind her, her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that he was wearing a suit. Emily had never thought she would miss the sight of a bow-tie as much as she realized she had. "Didn't you get my note?"

"Yes, but I thought you would say hello once you came home." He took off his glasses and pushed back in his chair, smiling at her.

She was glad that his voice didn't hold any traces of accusation. He seemed genuinely glad to see her. Strolling towards him, she shrugged, "Well, I desperately craved a hot shower." Stopping in front of his desk, she went on, "And to be honest, I thought I would find you on the bed, watching golf."

Richard chuckled lowly and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. Looking her straight in the eye, his held an amused sparkle. "I'm sorry I didn't meet your expectations."

Placing her hands on the desk, she leaned onto them, her smile matching his. "I'm actually glad you didn't." Emily slowly walked around the antique masterpiece, her fingertips trailing over the polished wood.

His eyes never left her face as she made her way towards him. Turning in his chair, he looked up at her.

She tried to decide whether or not to ask him about his sudden change of behaviour. "What are you working on?" Emily looked at him from under her long, dark lashes.

Holding out his hands, he waited for her to place hers in them. "Oh, I needed to file some reports, check some things...." He shrugged, trying to sound unimpressed, "Just some routine stuff; nothing interesting." Kissing her knuckles, he gently pulled at her hands.

She felt him tug and smiled, knowing exactly what he silently asked her. Deciding to grant his wish, she turned and sat down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as his came to rest on her hip.

Richard brushed his lips gently over her cheek before kissing it. "As far as I can tell, you did a wonderful job with all this." He leaned back to look at her, delighted when her cheeks showed a faint blush. Enlacing his fingers, his voice dropped a notch, becoming even more like velvet. "But I think it might be time I take over our financials again."

Emily felt her heart skip a beat. Gazing deep in his eyes, she felt time slow down for a moment. A slow smile spread over her features, until the corners or her mouth almost seem to touch her earlobes. He was back; and from the way he looked at her, she could tell that he was grateful to her, "Whatever you say, dear."

He brought his hand up to her face and gently brushed some tendrils of hair away from her forehead with his index finger.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Emily finally looked away, redirecting her gaze to the computer screen. "I think I better let you get back to your work then."

"Please stay." He whispered into her ear and kissed her temple.

Trying to hide her satisfied smile, she nodded. "Okay." Her face was still turned towards the screen. "Maybe you could show me what you are doing." She looked at him again and shrugged. "Maybe I can learn something."

He smiled and nodded, "All right." Richard let go of her and sat back so she could turn in his arms, her back now against his chest. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he took hold of the mouse and clicked, "Let's see...."

~*~

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Emily snug in his embrace, her head tucked under his chin as they lay on their sides, facing each other, Richard had to smile. He had missed her. He had missed this. And he knew that he didn't need to tell her; she felt the same.