One-Shot: Duel of the Dads

Luke Danes had always had a phobia of hospitals. The only phobia worse than that was being in hospitals alone.

But that is where he now found himself, in the middle of a humid night in late summer. The TV in the hospital room was turned on to the news, its volume low, yet Luke was paying it no attention. He only had eyes and ears for the young woman now lying asleep in the hospital bed where he sat vigil, with a newborn lying on her chest.

Lorelai Leigh "Rory" Gilmore had given birth to a daughter earlier that night, with only her stepfather for company. In a frantic ride to Hartford Memorial Hospital, every other loved one Luke had tried to call on her behalf had either agreed to face the long-shot odds of coming from a plane ride away, or sent him straight to voicemail. Luke had called everyone: his wife Lorelai (Rory's mother), his mother-in-law Emily, his daughter April, Rory's boyfriend (and the baby Gilmore's father) Logan Huntzberger. Rory's best friend Lane. Mia, the former owner of the Independence Inn. Paris Geller.

Lorelai and Emily were stuck in Nantucket at the mercy of a storm late in hurricane season. The only thing worse than trying to find a flight out of anywhere was trying to find a flight off an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. April was in New Mexico visiting her mom, so perhaps she had a better shot at getting in the air, though the flight would have been far longer. Logan beat everyone else's record, halfway around the world in London and tied up with business negotiations as it was. Though to the young heir's credit, he had sounded genuinely distressed and even tearful that he could not make it to the birth of his child in time. Upon having the phone passed to Rory, Logan had expressed his love for her and confidence that she could bring their baby into the world. Mia was stuck down South, anxiously watching the paths of multiple hurricanes - Harvey and Irma and Maria and whatever-other-godforskaen names there were. Luke just hoped Rory didn't name her baby any of those. Luke had predictably gotten Paris's voicemail, because apparently she was away on vacation with Doyle and their kids. That explanation on her voicemail had surprised him; Luke didn't think Paris had ever taken a vacation in her life.

So here Luke was, all by himself. Despite the fact that this was his stepdaughter and now his grandchild, the gruff Diner owner felt out of place. When the doctors had first insisted that he join them for the delivery, he had barely refrained from pointing at himself in clarification or looking around to see who else the doctors might be talking to. With little choice, he had scrubbed up, donned a hospital gown and one of those funny-looking shower hats and held Rory's hand, looking grim. She had damn near broken his fingers, weeping and wailing in pain and pleading with Luke not to leave her. Never!, he had told her. At one point, she had helplessly begged Luke to help her through the agony, calling him, "Daddy." Oh, if only Luke could have taken some of the discomfort away! But the effort had to come from Rory, and Rory alone. Even so, it sickened Luke to see her in any pain.

Thinking of the woman whom he loved as a daughter made Luke's throat go dry. Thankfully, there was a water cooler in the corner of the hospital room. He got up and crossed to get a cold drink at just the wrong moment, so that when Rory's phone - lying untouched in an empty chair, as it had for many hours - lit up, Luke had to dive across the tiles to snatch it up. He nearly missed the call, not even bothering to get a good look at the Caller ID in his haste to swipe right.

"Hello?"

"Uh... Rory?" said an unfortunately all-too-familar voice on the other end. Then: "Oh. It's you."

"Christopher?" Luke frowned, wishing he hadn't answered. Or that he could even hang up right now.

"Who else?" Christopher volleyed back, a barely perceptible annoyance lacing his voice. "I'm her father, you know."

"You're not the only one who cares about her, you know," Luke shot back. "And if you do, then keep your voice down. She's asleep. Don't wake her up."

"Is she all right? The baby -"

"... is alive and healthy," Luke finished. "A girl. And she's beautiful."

Christopher chuckled. "I didn't expect anything else. Girls are a tradition for those Gilmores." Then, he let out something that sounded like a sob. After all, he was now a grandfather too. Luke considered offering a congratulations, but the bitter reminders associated with this man on the other end of the line made him refrain.

However, he did have one question: "How did you know she was... in labor?"

"Rory called me after her water broke," Christopher explained.

So that had probably occurred sometime before Rory had stumbled into the Diner, sobbing and clutching her stomach and her pants soaked through. Every other phone call had been on the ride to the hospital and controlled by Luke. Funny, Luke had not even thought to call Rory's biological father. And even if he had, he would have wondered if Rory wanted him to.

"I'm sorry I can't be there," Christopher apologized. "I'm in Paris with Sherry and Gigi. But I'm sure my presence would be a strain as it is."

You're always sorry, Luke thought darkly, remembering all the times Christopher had let his family down and he, Luke had needed to pick up the slack. However, all Luke said instead was, "You wouldn't be a strain. I'm here alone."

"Lorelai's not there?!" And Christopher sounded angry as well as surprised at what he must have viewed as a very uncharacteristic move on the part of his ex-wife.

"Christopher, she's stuck on an island! Nantucket with Emily! Even in fair weather, getting a plane off that rock is damn near impossible!"

Christopher softened. "Oh. Well, if anyone could do the impossible, it would be Emily Gilmore."

Luke actually chuckled at the thought of his mother-in-law. "That I can believe."

Another pause, and then a comment that seemed to be almost wrenched from Christopher's throat. "Thank you. For being there."

Luke shrugged. "Where else would I be?" he mumbled.

The line was silent for a moment as Christopher considered this. Then, asked almost in a whisper: "Will I be allowed to see the baby?"

"That's up to Rory," Luke admitted honestly. "But I don't think she would deny you that."

"Would you?" Christopher parried quickly.

Luke was quiet for a moment. Christopher had done so many things that had not only wrecked the lives of the Gilmore girls as well as his own, Luke didn't trust the aging motorcycle hotshot as far as he could throw him, and that wasn't very far. Even after all these years. But Luke was married to Lorelai now; Christopher had displayed the good sense to not show his face at the wedding. Although that praise was hollow, as Luke had later heard from Rory that she had visited her father just to make sure he did not. But to hold a grudge out of spite was not Luke's decision to make. "No. But my stepdaughter can make her own decisions; she's an adult. This is about Rory."

"Yeah, but this is also about you and me," Christopher pointed out, the texture of his voice weighted with seriousness. "How are we gonna do this?"

Luke smirked. "What? Share grandfather duties?"

"Precisely."

"Again, up to Rory. But when you visit, it's my house, my rules. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Christopher conceded.

"As for names... I say we flip a coin. But no way in hell am I getting saddled with 'Pop-Pop' or some stupid moniker like that!"

Christopher actually laughed. "Pop-Pop is off the list for me, too."

With his free hand, Luke Googled on his phone other synonyms for grandfather. The list wasn't exactly exhaustive, but neither he nor Christopher had to call dibs on a name just yet.

In the background of the call, Luke could hear another voice. Christopher sighed. "I gotta go. Sherry is begging me for news. Can I...?"

Luke had never met the mom of Rory's half-sister, but he didn't see a reason why Christopher couldn't... "Tell her. Go ahead."

"Thanks. Have Lorelai call me when she gets there? Or Rory when she wakes up? Or...?"

"Someone who isn't me? Yeah, sure," Luke smirked, enjoying the discomfort of his former rival far too much.

"OK. I guess I'll see you later... Luke. And... thanks again."

The call disconnected, and Luke dropped Rory's phone into his lap, right besides his own. Smoothing back the bangs on Rory's damp brow, he kissed her forehead. He would tell her about her father calling, when Rory woke up to breast-feed her new child in the morning.